Worry notif you are in darknessand the void sucks you in further.This is not the place we go to die.It’s where we are bornand our stories begin.

We are all born as storytellers. Our inner voice tells the first story we ever hear.

Why are we afraid of the silence that ensues after our death? Wasn’t it the same silence we endured before birth? Isn’t it the same silence we revel in when we are completely immersed in the present moment? Let us not be afraid.

Love isn’t blind. Maybe we are all born blind and love finally gives us sight.

Babies cry at birth because it is the first time they experience separation from love.

I am certain, my love, that poetry was born only after your birth.

Eyes and ears are two.Lungs and kidneys, too.I wonder thenwhy we're born with oneheart that skips a beat when hay is here,and beats quickly when you are near.One heart that cracks when you are far, lie to me and leave a scar.I wonder thenwhy we're born with oneheart that gets broken.Was I supposed to find you then?So your heart would make one plus one is twofor me andtwo for you.

You must be more alive than life.You must see darkness danceand hear silence sing.You must be more awake than lightfor we aren’t born sleepingand we shouldn’t live sleeping.Only then will death’s slumberbecome sweet.

Why this candle?Why this cake?The day of my birth is not today.I was born when you said, 'Hey.