The Plaster of Thought-Walls: 149

Thought: One Thousand Thirty-One
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You know, I never want to be this close to anyone—with you, everything feels so different somehow. Yet our very acquaintance is nothing more than a disconnected incident.
This much you understand, surely—I can never keep myself distant from you. Sometimes I've shown a bit of possessiveness over you... for this I ask your forgiveness. The one we love must always be kept free—I know this, my dear!
Wherever you may be... stay well. You alone will always fill my entirety...no one else.

What is the mind really like? The mind is much like a computer. The mind first understands experience—based on accumulated information from the past, past patterns, memory, delusion, time, self-hypnosis, various habits, diverse attachments, all manner of conditioning. Then it realizes—the non-dual nature of consciousness—where experience and the experiencer are not separate. Experience itself is the experiencer. This very realization establishes the mind in a non-dual state—where there is observation, but no observer remains. From here unfolds consciousness—as primary direct sensation, where universal awareness reveals itself as the fundamental ground of reality.

Suddenly, in the dead of night, I woke up! I touched, with profound awareness—a single tear rolling down my cheek! I felt such pity for myself! 
In the desperate longing to hold you close, my heart began to tremble with impatience! It felt as though I had a raging fever... 
This intense desire to embrace you so intimately—I had never felt before. How many nights I've waited like this... is it all my imagination?

I was shattered by your silence, 
a terrible loneliness had engulfed me. 
Strange thing, today you didn't even once... look into my eyes!
 Yet, gazing into your eyes, I understood... 
how tormenting this moment between life and death truly is.
: Why are you in such a hurry to leave me? 
: I am terribly tired. 
: How much do you love me?
: As long as time itself. 
: Will you never return? 
: The past doesn't return. 
: Take care—I won't have to say this again.
: That is my final wish.
Everything changes.
Everything is born.
Everything dies.
The question is—what actually comes to life?
And what truly perishes?
The wave you see rising from the ocean…
dances for a while,
then merges back into the sea.
So are you.
So am I.
So is every flower, every bird, every human being.
Form emerges from within existence,
plays for a moment,
then dissolves back into life itself.
Nothing is ever lost.
Nothing ever disappears.
The wave is always the ocean.
Humans, animals, plants—
always life.
And behind all of this—
universal consciousness.
I control my emotions—
when I see that the feelings of those around me are not with me.
I focus on self-control—
when I see that there isn't much time left in my destiny.
I avoid curses—
knowing I am no one's special person.
: Why do you look so melancholy today? Why is your face so pale? 
: Didn't you know there's a vast difference between truth and imagination?
I never give you expensive flowers. Do you know why? They bloom for you anyway. The tender buds hiding behind grass and vines, they too want to touch you, to know your fragrance! 
You don't even know the stories of thousands of flowers blooming unnoticed!
Even if you've cut off communication with me, keep your understanding with yourself intact.
Since I met you, everything I've been doing until now has been thinking of you; everything I write is to keep our connection alive. Do you know, I never write for myself—I can't write at all! I only wrote to have one conversation with you.
Now, even being so close to you, I don't have the right to know everything about you. That's why I'm saying, take care of yourself.
For some special reason, our souls will unite again—I wait for that moment.
I saw a big award show happening. You went up on stage, giving a speech. You were saying things you'd never said anywhere before. Everyone was listening in amazement.
I had gone there too. Naturally, in such a crowd, you wouldn't be expected to look at me. But you were clearly looking right at me.
Listening to your speech, I realized you were suffering terribly inside—something had happened.
After the speech, you went backstage. I ran to meet you too. But I couldn't find you anywhere.
For two hours I searched everywhere for you like a madman…
Later I heard everyone talking... they said you had committed suicide!
Hearing this, I began to wail and cry. I kept telling my mind... no, you couldn't do such a thing. This isn't true. Nothing has happened to you.
But no... this was just a nightmare! Still, you know, I really did cry even in my sleep. I woke up drenched in sweat.
Unbearable…!
One mynah can do the work of seven donkeys, but seven hundred mynahs cannot fill the void left by one mynah bird.
As if an imperiled wonder plays—with the object of our inner sight's devotion. It soothes our weariness...those wondrous two eyes!
How deeply I feel you, love you...I don't think—my heart has ever stood so still within my chest for anyone until now. I've never seen myself submerged in another for such lengths of time before.
You are terribly dear to me; if it were possible, I would tend to you with my utmost care and keep you sheltered.
So many words have gathered...
I cannot bind them into speech!
So much pain has accumulated...
Forgetting the weariness of your touch,
whatever acquaintance was acceptable—
in faint restlessness became...
false promises bound.
Don't go anywhere, I will come to you myself.
In solitude
on the ribs of your chest...
gathering drops of blood
took the form of a great ocean!
When faced with unspoken feelings—
how helpless does a person become?
: Has our distance truly grown, do you think?
: Consciousness knows no distance, the problem is only of the body.
।।
The notion that giving love guarantees receiving love—this thinking is flawed. What's needed here is a spontaneous and selfless attitude from both sides. But determining how selfless one must be to remain spontaneous afterward is crucial.
By 'selfless' here I don't mean 'without self-interest,' but rather 'not being entirely self-centered'; that is, the matter of putting your person's happiness, needs, and their perspective before your own wants and gains. The reason being, if you make yourself completely insignificant, your importance in their life diminishes too.
However, it's important to know that while you're loving and simultaneously reminding them at every step—that you love them 'selflessly,' whether through behavior or words—this matter is utterly meaningless. Come, let us remember, you're loving them to realize the joy within yourself; you're not showing anyone mercy. People love—in the greed to touch and discover the latent happiness within themselves.
The beggar who begs for material alms also seeks satisfaction. If you open the door, give a handful of rice, then slam the door in their face, even after receiving alms, they would return it if they could! They don't only out of helplessness, but then the sense of gratitude vanishes. Similarly, when you love and forcefully remind them—how it would have been if they hadn't received this—this very thought will arise, even though we are all creatures starved for love.
So love to keep your person well, because your ultimate well-being lies in their well-being.
Yet, the intensity of my love for you has increased... like the turbulent waves of a purposeless sea voyage—which was never meant to tire.
There's no use giving good advice to a girl who's drowning in love with the wrong person; if you do, she'll misunderstand you instead. Girls of this type learn only by being caught and beaten.
An entire night passed in your touch. I know it was imagination—a traffic jam of thoughts filling my head, this clamor just won't stop.
In the sway of a terrible unknown shiver, you touched my body at lightning speed! The ribs of my chest, wrapped in regret, grew gradually cold.
The desire to stay close to you under the excuse of correcting mistakes didn't vanish; rather, it grew—you never even knew.
I want to forget you—
so that my subconscious mind
in all its feelings
finds only you.
I increase the distance with you—
so that memories take leave.
When people fall into new love, they eat rice and write the beloved's initials even on their plate.
Thought: One thousand thirty-two
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Men generally want to provide immediate solutions upon hearing about problems, yet often women simply want to lighten the burden on their hearts. So when your partner is complaining, you must learn to listen quietly.
Such moments come quite often in daily life—unfair treatment at work or anger and resentment arising in someone's mind over trivial reasons.
Then instead of rushing to offer solutions, it's essential simply to listen with patience—to the complaints, the anger, the frustration, all of it—until that fire eventually cools. Then an embrace, a little care, perhaps a shared meal—after this, the atmosphere of the relationship shifts.
In calmer moments returns the gentle voice—"I love that we can talk like this." The greatest solution is this: not to provide solutions, but simply to listen with patience. To survive, human beings need listeners.
When you learn to love the right person in the right way, you can bind yourself to future happiness, join peace to your life with a hyphen.
I will no longer say to anyone—"Why are you treating me this way" or "You've deceived me, you're betraying me." I won't complain, nor will I try to explain. Instead, I'll remove myself from those places where my vulnerabilities have been exploited to humiliate, neglect, and use me.
Now I have only one desire—to live solely for myself. To live with complete wholeness. All the love, respect, and dues that I believe I deserve—I'll give all of it to myself. Who remains on my journey, who doesn't—I'll never again suffer over such things. I am enough for myself—I want to make this crystal clear to everyone someday.
Especially, I'll close those doors myself from the outside—doors that have repeatedly struck me and left my insides wounded. Those I once thought were my entire world—I'll never return to them again.
The person you help month after month with money—if ever you can't give money one month, they'll ask you: "You didn't give money this month?" Their question might even carry a note of anger; hearing it, you'll feel as though receiving that money is their right! Out of a kind of discomfort, you'll then try to avoid them, the way people avoid creditors!
Notice, they won't ask how you are or whether you're facing any problems. For all those months you've been helping them, you'll find not a trace of gratitude in their behavior, nor a whisper of prayer for your recovery from current difficulties. That you can't help—this alone matters to them; you as a human being have no value to them.
Come, let's look at the reverse picture too. Those who don't help them, but have the means to do so—they actually inquire after their well-being, show them more affection than they show you when they meet. They feel no discomfort approaching such people. When talking to them, they don't feel somehow like thieves. When messaging them, they ask after their welfare, while their messages to you will be like this: "You didn't give money for such-and-such months? It would be good if you sent it quickly." (Whether you're in any difficulty—that doesn't concern them at all.)
Think about it—you too were once in that group whose welfare they inquire after "sincerely" (?). Such is human nature—they strike first at those who help them.
Expectation-lessness is strength, yet even great souls cannot escape the snare of expectation.
After losing me, one day you will feel deep regret, and like green waves upon blue water, tears will cascade down your eyes.
Like distant Kanchenjunga that can be seen but not reached, I too will become unattainable—visible, but beyond your grasp.
After losing the right to reach for me casually, anytime, anyhow as before, storms of sighs will tear through your chest in the middle of the night.
You won't be able to tell anyone, nor will you have me there to help you bear it.
One day, after losing me, you will feel great sorrow. The person who rested their head on your chest with affection, tenderness and love—you will never find such a trusting chest or head anywhere else in this world. In this world full of people, you'll find population, but not humanity.
After losing me, one day you will truly want to cry; you'll want to weep, but tears won't flow from your eyes. Your chest will dry up like the Sahara Desert, becoming hollow and empty, but you won't be able to show it to anyone.
You might find someone else who loves you like I do; but no one will ever come again who loves you the way I love you.
You will feel sorrow, regret, anguish, but you will never find me again.
Truly, remember this—after losing me, one day you will feel deep regret. I swear by that sky under whose same canopy we both live side by side, yet no longer close to each other.
One day you and I went together to a coffee shop on a bone-chilling winter night. Do you remember? I had worn my rough sponge sandals from home. While you were taking pictures and climbing the shop's stairs, you looked at my feet and came close to my ear, saying in a very soft voice, "You came wearing your house slippers!"
The way you said that to me... it's infinite!
When you show me affection, the way our eyes meet! What intensity in your eyes! How desperately it makes me want to die!
When you hold me tight against your chest, and my breathing becomes irregular, then lying on this side of your chest afterwards... ufff!
I mean, you're absolutely outrageous!
I can't write anymore about these things... enough!
Thinking about you, my eyes have had an orgasm and my entire pillow is soaked. How embarrassing! How embarrassing! Ishh!
Music is the deepest prayer.
We have so many differences between us, yet our taste in music matches so closely... it's very strange!
What's so surprising about that?
There certainly is something, just as ordinary people can't grasp the reason for poets' ailments.
No one scatters ritual flowers on the road; they offer them at the deity's feet.
The deity's shrine is by the roadside; people reach there by walking the path. Why should the path feel bad about this?
I am well—
a simple confession.
I keep saying wrong things constantly,
somehow surviving in this race too;
but that I am not well—
inside me
built grain by grain
that you-ness is no more.
Your sorrow is yours alone.
Your happiness belongs to everyone.
My not being human doesn't seem very advantageous to me.
Our story—stops short every day.
In these terrible flames—
the grief of a burning heart.
Heavy with remorse...
tear-soaked eyes.
After how many funeral processions...
will a new dawn arrive?
Every moment, waiting for you... I keep some more feelings unexpressed.
I too am performing the act of being well, somewhat.
Thought: One Thousand Thirty-Three
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In family life or in love, domestically-inclined people remain happier than creative souls. If you are creative but your partner isn't, or if your partner is creative but you're not quite like that—then the invisible wall between you will rear its head at any time, and neither of you will even notice.
The day that sudden storm shatters your heart's dwelling into fragments, you will notice—it wasn't the walls of the house that were thickening all this while, but the walls between us.
Actually, to live with an artistic or creative person, one must at least know the art of accommodation, or at the very least, learn to be comfortable with solitude. Creative souls must be allowed to exist on their own terms.
Yes, there are some who love to see the person living within the artist's art. What a strange thing love is—it insists on loving everything!
In my worn, winter-cold life you are like a warm sensation! Like the shelter of mother's sari! Like golden sunlight peeping through the clouds!
It's been so long, I've been busy just stroking my own head. To feel a little peace—I know no other way to give myself anything more than this.
I often slowly stroke my head like this. Then it feels as though I have no one. In this world, more than myself...I need no one else beside me. Doesn't a terrifyingly alone person have the right to live in this world?
The search for these tears of mine—no one really knows or keeps it except this solitary pillow. Once you gently touched my hair, stroked my head—that day I wanted to embrace you and cry terribly; if you had sheltered me with such care—I would have nowhere else to go, do you understand?—so don't keep me now!
Did you notice, you weren't afraid of the darkness that day...you held me tightly against your chest all night long. Stay well—this is how I'm keeping myself alive.
You forget—I'm pretending to stay away. Will you come before me once...with your hair unbound?
Don't mess up my organized life...deep down I desperately want—you to start writing about me again.
Staying awake so many nights, my eyes see poorly anyway; those who have moved away, I can't see them at all anymore.
Living isn't a very urgent or important matter. What's important is not dying before death.
Even with endless opportunities, who couldn't have you—tell me, did they really live? Though kingdoms were in their grasp, they lost life itself!
Love means eighty percent affection and twenty percent responsibility. Even if we reduced the percentage of responsibility, the sentence on the left would remain relevant.
Marriage means eighty percent responsibility and twenty percent affection. Even if we reduced the percentage of affection, the sentence on the left would remain relevant.
Whoever has an ocean of love and a pond of responsibility in their heart—marrying them would be regrettable.
Once I thought—happiness perhaps lay in physical contact. One night, I even told someone very dear—come, let's touch our depths today. But right then I saw them retreat in fear, seeing my body's exhaustion. All night they simply tended to me—placing cool cloths on my fevered body, sheltering me in silent affection.
At that moment came a realization from within—happiness actually hides in care. And physical relationship, which I had thought the ultimate form of happiness, suddenly seemed tarnished and exaggerated.
Now my condition is like that rebellious soul—who at the moment of death doesn't want to leave their familiar body. Though I try to explain my inner feelings, I can't understand myself. I'm trying to chain my soul, showing it the path of reason, explaining again and again—yet it keeps rebelling.
It keeps wanting to return to you.
Your sudden departure...did pain me terribly, but I also knew—you would surely be well.
Leaving is human nature.
Has anyone ever stayed forever?
If one could control emotions and feelings, one could free oneself from unnecessary suffering; but I myself have never prayed for deliverance from this. 
For a person who is devoid of emotion—to waste precious tears over them is nothing short of a crime. If this repeats, you must accept that you lack even the ability to keep yourself well.
 Pragmatic people never try to be emotional. After a certain point, why do people fall prey to the disease of loneliness? Or are they merely pretending?
To imagine my feelings without you— 
even for a moment...
 my heart pleaded in gentle tones— 
departure is impossible! 
With compassionate consent... 
I became absorbed in waiting.
I tried so hard to keep myself well, you know! Perhaps in that sense, I could do nothing for myself. The time I spent loving you—I was searching for the person within myself...and how is that insufficient! 
Now I let myself cry, I don't suppress tears without cause. I had to hurt myself—so I let you go. Not everything suits everyone, I was terribly out of place beside you. 
I'm not in the habit of being too well. And I still haven't learned to act; so I said it straight—be well.
The moment just before falling in love is the most beautiful... 
everything else is adjustment for survival. 
And love is a one-sided affair—much like crying alone with the door closed. It brings peace, but sorrow also settles in. 
That's how it seems to me now...
Boys want respect far more than they want love; yet foolish girls learned only to love. 
Boys want peace far more than they want romance; yet foolish girls learned only to bind in love.
Getting a debtor on the phone is a matter of luck!
Love means prolonged waiting, suffocating oneself...voluntarily embracing death. Every time I failed to keep the person within me well...how I writhed in terrible agony—I no longer have count of that today.
How many times my faith in myself has vanished—I no longer have the courage to imagine. How many times I've had to stop, holding close to untrustworthy hearts, listening to false stories...no one knows that account. Exactly how many times...breaking through walls of happiness, I knelt and begged forgiveness—just to touch you once...you didn't want to hear that prayer's tune.
Exactly how many times, in fear of losing you...I wounded this body—you don't even know.
Let there be a few mistakes. Without a few mistakes, beauty is destroyed.
When you wrinkle your nose seeing someone enjoys eating bitter gourd, has he ever said outright that you married a black bald elephant of a man for money? 
Whose life, their living. Learn to live non-judgmentally. Who wants to hear your third-class judgments?
Thought: One thousand thirty-four
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Listen, I have no one but you. I break and shatter each time, yet I know...one must take care of oneself. I have no one to hold my hand firmly.
Beloved, family, identity—none of these exist. Still I say—you will remain the person of my innermost being.
It's impossible for me to seek any other comfort zone. So I will keep you with me. You just need to keep my place empty if you can—that's all I ask. The rest you can do as you wish...
My position without you may not be zero... but without you, my inner room feels terribly empty!
Be well. You know, when I think of you caressing someone else...it makes me want to become like them. Ha ha ha...
Even if it means going against the entire world, you are perhaps someone's well-wisher! Just so, in my life too, you will remain that person. Do I need to tell you the rest?
I love you terribly.
Take care of yourself.
One day you will suddenly see immense tenderness in someone's heart for you—tenderness you will want to ignore. But rest assured, you will soon fall in love with them. After falling in love, you will receive life's greatest sorrow from them one day, without warning.
Then... you will want revenge, but you won't be able to take it, or even if you could, you won't. You will then desperately want to forget them. The more you try, the more your shared memories of tenderness will hold you captive.
It doesn't take bullets to kill a person—their own mind is quite enough.
How many competitions in life I never entered... simply from fear of losing! Afraid of where to go if I lost, how to face it—this fear kept so many doors closed. How many dishes on menus I never tried, worried they might taste bland instead of delicious. Who would come along, what would happen—thinking of such things, I never went to countless places. Even when money could buy the chance to learn skills, I abandoned thousands of opportunities, doubting whether those skills would give double returns. How many feelings I arranged into words only to swallow them back, fearing I'd lose people; how much possible happiness I erased with both hands in imagined uncertainty—all these accounts slip through my fingers like water.
There's no time left today to remember all this.
There's a living grave within my chest that used to open again and again at random moments. I always wanted to bury all my restlessness in its soil and find stillness, afraid of losing relationships. Yet see—with you, it seems I have no urgency, no defeat. No mistakes, no bitterness. As if with you I am white chalk scribbles drawn across a black slate, a fairy tale where the princess's beauty has no separate measure, where the beautiful ones aren't the story... rather, the stories become beautiful!
It feels as if you've opened your door with all the purity of this world. Everything I have must now take its turn being purified; or perhaps, as I am, purity is simply like that. Only with you do I return again and again with all my mistakes.
You told me, "Your place with me is very high up."
Below "high up," meaning below God's level, many people dwell, my friend.
Perhaps it's improper to ask for clarification. Know this: here, only God is truly reliable. Everything else... love affairs, heart's companionship, attraction, conscience, the tug-of-war of care—all flow downward like affection.
With me, you are the reliability...
Getting a debtor on the phone is a matter of luck!
Who knows when someone falls into what trouble and becomes a person of learning!
This sitting beside you, touching finger to finger, breathing in your fragrance from the air with full lungs... this seeing my own shadow in your eyes, my nickname given by you ringing in your voice. The water of my heart that wets you also soaks me.
This isn't merely time. This is living in wondrous enchantment! This is a beautiful life!
The heat is so intense, even struggling to speak cheerfully with people!
Happiness seeks sexuality, the clarity of your touch on the body; the soul seeks love, the boundary line of your waiting in poetry; in the crowd of memories pain grows,
you are a silent prayer.
I can see you just by closing my eyes, can touch you every moment, in my soul. Still I want you. I want you to plunge like burnt wood into this lotus pond,
fill all the emptiness.
Imagine you're alone in the world, no one else exists. You're walking alone toward the horizon.
Walking and walking on this vast empty world's path, you're exhausted.
If someone were to place a hand on your drowsy head beneath some silent tree and say, "Rise, evening has passed, there's still much road ahead"... how would that feel?
: What... you're crazy! Do you know that? : And do you know that I'm crazy for you? 
All that is pure—that is my true form, all that is nascent—that is my being, all that is unresolved—that is my madness. In eternal form, not temporarily—in spirituality this aspect of mine is 
particularly praised.
Unequal love, unseen time, unrequited emotion— 
emptiness itself is attainment.
The wound within my chest... intoxicated by the deepest wisdom of clarity. I came running at the urge of spiritual touch; 
the address 'friend' alone suffices.
Only by looking into the eyes can one gauge the extent of love—  
no other way makes this possible.
How many letters I've sent you, received no reply. Perhaps not all questions need answers. 
Even staying close, why this excessive distance?
Some familiar scent... awakens our old memories. Our sense of smell is connected to the memory-holding part of our brain. In the light, sweet fragrance of your body—all the sorrow, pain, illness within my chest 
gets healed.
When you embrace me—how can I make you understand how much peace I feel!  
Why do you belong to me so completely?
I have nothing but sighs. This sigh alone announces—I am not dead. My position in your life... how much of it is real? My feelings without you... 
are they this empty?
A man's life is a dog's life.
A cigarette, burning fire, freed me from all torment. Sleep has descended upon my eyes... 
I too deserve a little peace.
There's no such thing as true love. You remain in my prayers to extend the permanence of this feeling; among the crowd of wounds, may you alone—
emerge as eternal truth.
Whoever toils for you is surely your family member. Whoever doesn't toil for you is in no way your family member.  
People from different families can truly become family members, while people from the same family can remain family members in name only.
When it rains hard, one gets soaked; when you embrace me very tightly... I cannot hold back tears. Some words, some stored memories... 
are moving away, just like you.
Women's budget woes: For makeup I only put on a little lipstick, and even that price is supposedly going up! Men's budget woes:  
For gifts I make do with inexpensive chocolates, and even their price is supposedly going up!
With you I've spent the best moments of my life. My heart won't heal, this wound won't diminish— 
so I've chosen to ignore the faultless path.
How low one must sink for money to have to work the office even on such a day!   
How am I? I don't know. If I say I'm very well... perhaps you won't ask again. So these days I say—I'm fine.
You must surely be well, very happy; otherwise you would remember me, I know. When your heart was heavy, you used to send me messages. Sometimes you'd type messages and then delete them, of course. You'd avoid me, wouldn't you? Even without saying the words, you'd say so much, yet still you wouldn't forget. I understood—you wanted to say so many things, yet something would stop you. Actually, this is for your own good! So I pray, forget me. Don't send me any messages. Let my phone's charge run out waiting for you, let you have no words to tell me, let there be no excuse for avoiding me, yet truly forget me... just as clouds forget after pouring rain, forget me exactly like that. You've finally managed it! 
When you scold me...
Inside my chest  
there is a terrible emptiness, crying out in anguish.
Sometimes I feel quite hurt by you, angry even. I think, he gives me no time at all. But the very next moment I remember how busy you are all day long! My anger melts away like water. Then I think, let him rest a little, that alone brings me peace. When my person is well, when he can simply be himself for a while, serenity works within me too.
I close my eyes and see you. In the moment before breath runs out—I touch and linger. Knowing I will lose you, still I search and search... 
I love.
Poetry without your fragrance is like a withered flower...fragile in the slightest breeze, ready to fall away.  
A God without your likeness is to me like the color of twilight...a tale of daylight's end.
If you knew... how deeply I fear losing you, then you would not stop on this path to... take my hand, to close the distance, 
to love.
Better to serve in Heaven, than reign in Hell.
When you caress me like someone mad with love... in that moment all the joy of my little piece of the world—consumes me entirely. You know, just coming close to you makes my heartbeat race unnaturally! My breath grows restless in the slow wind; sitting beside your shadow— 
I am weeping.
I don't think... I could merge with anyone else the way I do with you—our musical tastes wouldn't match, they wouldn't understand my writing. I love your quietude, I love how you slip away in silence, I love your eyes, the scent of your body—no one else has that! How can I make you understand—that I need only you! Within your chest— one could live an entire life in perfect peace, 
and nothing much else would be needed, I think.
Boundless faith in God, love; so we will meet again one day—if not in this life, then the next—God will make it so. Why does one suffer, why is one deprived of God's love. Bhagavan Ishwar Allah are one, I have seen none—feeling in my soul, I have held You in my heart. Why do You do what causes me such pain? Does God give anyone such suffering? Make them weep so? You cannot say...it's all lies, all of it!
I've started living by the time of the watch you gave me. Let me see exactly how long it takes to reach you from today. Oh...when you come so close I go mad. But you had forgotten me—I could tell. I will never willingly go far from you—actually, I couldn't even if I tried! I never want to be someone you dislike. Love, it seems, only grows slowly, with no possibility of diminishing. You are exactly to my heart's liking...if I had my way, I would never let you go. When you hold me very tight...I go mad—your breath touches my soul, your approval reminds me of my failures; still I keep wanting you again and again! When you embrace me, my heart—rests light as a feather against your chest. 
My Love, There's something I've been meaning to say... Your presence is a sanctuary— When you hold me close, I feel a warmth that quiets every storm within. Your care shields me like no one ever has; You are my protector, my comfort, my gentle strength. When your spirit brushes against mine, And showers me with unspoken tenderness, I feel deeply honored—graced by something sacred.   You are my Guru, My soulmate, My dearest companion on this wondrous path.
You and I… we are not two. I am you. 
You are me.
Don't sulk anymore, I am busy. Stay well, I remain entwined in your memories. Still you wouldn't listen, wouldn't look into my eyes. Don't come today... 
You'll only hurt.
Don't increase the sorrow, don't call me by name, don't turn and look back—the pull will only grow stronger.  
You should rather stay busy.
A strange emptiness is at work... My heart says, tomorrow I'll be able to touch you, keep you seated before my eyes constantly, your voice laced with tenderness—I'll listen with utmost attention, your lips will grow even moister—with my sulking. Somehow it feels as though— 
tomorrow I'll see you after many days.
The illness has worsened again. Is there no escape from this? Do you feel uncomfortable... under the weight of my breath? You know, I will never recover! 
So I set you free.
I touch you so very gently—you are a fragment of glass memory kept with utmost care, the slightest carelessness and you might shatter instantly! When I gaze at you too long... my eyes well up! The regret of not being able to touch you—stirs within. That familiar fragrance of your body— 
I want to keep it wrapped around my chest till death.
When I don't see you, my vision cannot travel very far. When I don't touch you... beautiful feelings don't come to me. I gaze at you for such long stretches... 
whenever I get the chance to be before you.
Don't shelter me... what if the restraint of separation grows? You should rather remain gathered in my memory. Don't mix emotion into my tears... what if this love grows? 
You should rather dwell in my prayers.
I won't say I'll keep touching you—I want to become part of your soul. I cannot sleep at night... wrap me in the ribs of this chest, 
or else—give me freedom.
When we meet again, tell me... 
how are you?
 When you're not beside me, if I long to see you, then what? What can I look at to bring peace to my eyes, can you tell me?
If in your absence alone, all the pure air of the world becomes polluted, then what? Where will I find your scent at midnight? Without you there's no other faithfulness, with whom will I speak of you? Can you tell me? When you forget me, whom will I call by your name? Will these prayers return? I don't know. Will you tell me?
Through so many sleepless nights— thinking of you, I no longer touch that bit of happiness. Still, after all this time... you came into my dreams! Does my subconscious mind still search only for you? I saw you clearly today, didn't touch you though... I saw you after so many days! 
Doesn't it tire you to spend so much time with my stories? Your face looks so enchanting in the moonlight! As though—at this moment I alone fill your vision. Did you yourself know that it was possible to fall in love this way? When someone has such beautiful eyes—can their gaze be ignored? It wouldn't have been possible for me to cross this endless path alone—for this reason, in this sudden pause 
your arrival was inevitable.
You truly have changed me! No matter how many mistakes I made before, whenever someone scolded me, I never even thought of saying sorry—let alone wondering if the other person might be hurt because of me. But the last time you scolded me, it was the first time I felt you were hurt, that your heart was heavy.
Not even for a moment did I feel like you were being rude or attacking me. Instead, I felt...comforted—because at least there's someone who holds me close enough to correct me, someone who truly wants me to be better. Who else deserves my gratitude if not you? 
Who gave me all the tangerines, expecting nothing in return?
: What if someone suddenly touches my anguish? : I have fallen in love...I didn't even know it myself. : What do you hear when you listen to my longing? : A long cry of wanting to reach you. : How much feeling does it take to touch a body? 
: Just a fragment of your breath's fleeting presence.
When my soul finds peace... that gentle sweet fragrance that makes me drowsy, that scent so intense I curl myself around it— the likeness of that familiar fragrance... 
I have found only in your body.