“You came at a time when love and attachment were synonymous to me. But oh how things have changed.”

World wide conversions; hospitals became temples where souls went to die.

Though the heart loves it is the mind that commits such passions to memory.

My heart was a nameless place, but you came and called it home.

For years you were my sun. But after nothing was said and done I ventured to other galaxies. Now your memory is nothing but a dim star.

You deflowered me. Still I blossomed.

She was enigmatic and sublime, sacred like Holy Fire on hallowed grounds.

I should’ve examined your intentions like leukocytes under a microscope, and protected my heart against your infectious pathological lies.

Homeboy was the apple of my eye, now he’s the onion that makes me cry.

Roses are red, Violets are blue, sunsets like this remind me of you.

Freedom is a mystic voyage we must embark on. A journey that swallows us into the oesophagus of aching dreams, until we reach the belly of hope.

People in any organization are always attached to the obsolete – the things that should have worked but did not, the things that once were productive and no longer are.

Patrick Henry wanted the Constitution to have a Bill of Rights attached to it — a list of powers that the government could never use against the people of the United States.

I’m attached to the beat. The best speaks words. I love Music.

A feeling of aversion or attachment toward something is your clue that there’s work to be done.

Riches do not delight us so much with their possession, as torment us with their loss.

If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt, it is mine alone.

Our journey is about being more deeply involved in Life and yet less attached to it.

You don’t really know how attached you are until you move away, until you’ve experienced what it means to be dislodged, a cork floating on the ocean of another place.