A perfume with no name

Oftentimes you feel this intense presence of something irremediably vague and indistinct. A yearning coming from nowhere. A traceless whisper. A perfume with no name. You give it soon up, relegating it as a figment of your unfulfilled desire.

And suddenly…

You encounter it in a poem. In the painting of a great master. In an unforgettable film.

Such relief.

That formless secret mildly whispering to you was no delusion. It is real, but no one around you could testify its subtle purl.


I know…but I don´t know that I know.

I don´t know what I know.

Do you?…

The highest form of Love is to give yourself back to you.

Once you emanate this insight, you don´t need to do anything for anyone.

They´ll just hear your soothing Presence which perforce gives themselves back to themselves.