The Darkness Has It's Own Light.

I Have Gone Into The Waste Lonely Places

Nothing Would Give Up Life: Even The Dirt Keeps Breathing A Small Breath.

I Long For The Imperishable Quiet At The Heart Of Form.

To Follow The Drops Sliding From A Lifting Oar, Head Up, While The Rower Breathes, And The Small Boat Drifts Quietly Shoreward.

The Living All Assemble! What's The Cue?-- Do What The Clumsy Partner Wants To Do!