I Am Made Of Earth, And My

All Paths Lead To The Same Goal: To Convey To Others What We Are.

Peace Goes Into The Making Of A Poem As Flour Goes Into The Making Of Bread.

If Each Day Falls Inside Each Night, There Exists A Well Where Clarity Is Imprisoned. We Need To Sit On The Rim Of The Well Of Darkness And Fish For Fallen Light With Patience.

The Darkness Of A Day Elapsed, Of A Day Nourished With Our Sad Blood.

I Got Lost In The Night, Without The Light Of Your Eyelids, And When The Night Surrounded Me I Was Born Again: I Was The Owner Of My Own Darkness.