The lover's food is the love of the bread
no bread need be at hand:
no one who is sincere in his love is a slave to existence.
Lovers have nothing to do with existence
lovers have the interest without the capital
Without wings they fly around the world;
without hands they carry the polo ball off the field.
That dervish who caught the scent of Reality
used to weave baskets even though his hand had been cut off.
Lovers have pitched their tent in nonexistence
they are of one quality and one essence, as nonexistence is.
-Rumi
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]that this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.[/FONT]
-Pablo Neruda