Let Soul Speak With The Silent Articulation

Love Itself Describes Its Own Perfection. Be Speechless And Listen.

There’s A Morning When Presence Comes Over Your Soul. You Sing Like A Rooster In Your Earth-colored Shape. Your Heart Hears And, No Longer Frantic, Begins To Dance.

There Is No Worse Sickness For The Soul, O You Who Are Proud, Than This Pretense Of Perfection.

For Sixty Years I Have Been Forgetful Every Minute, But Not For A Second Has This Flowing Toward Me Stopped Or Slowed.

Silence Is An Ocean. Speech Is A River.