Jerusalem Is A Port City On The

The Reason A Poet Is A Poet Is To Write Poems, Not To Advertise Himself As A Poet.

The Soul Inside Me Is The Last Foreign Language I'm Learning.

From The Place Where We Are Right, Flowers Will Not Grow In The Spring.

And As We Stray Further From Love, We Multiply The Words. Had We Remained Together We Could Have Become A Silence.

I’ve Never Been In Those Places Where I’ve Never Been And Never Will Be, I Have No Share In The Infinity Of Light-years And Dark-years, But The Darkness Is Mine, And The Light, And My Time Is My Own.