One Flower May Slay The Winter And

Love, Why Have You Sought The Horde Of Spearsmen, Why The Tent Achilles Pitched Beside The River-ford?

Long Hours Trail In Their Purple And Long Years Are Lost In Just This Moment While Our Souls Are Near, Our Mouths Separate.

Music Sets Up Ladders, It Makes Us Invisible, It Sets Us Apart, It Lets Us Escape; But From The Visible There Is No Escape.

I Could Not Accept From Wisdom What Love Taught, Woman Is Perfect.

A Slight Wind Shakes The Seed-pods My Thoughts Are Spent As The Black Seeds.