and men of intellect cannot mix:
How can you mix the broken with the unbroken?
Cautious men of intellect
shrink back from a dead ant:
Lovers, completely carefree, trample down dragons.
The intellect says:
“The six directions are limits: there
There is no way out.”
“There is a way: I have traveled it
Thousands of times.”
The intellect saw a market,
and started to haggle:
Love saw thousands of markets beyond that market.
Lovers who drink
the dregs of the wine reel from bliss
The dark-hearted men of reason
Burn inwardly with denial.
The intellect says
“Do not go forward, annihilation
Contains only thorns.”
Love laughs back:
“The thorns are in you.”
Pull the thorn of existence
out of the heart! Fast!
For when you do you will see
thousands of rose gardens in yourself.