The Rose Is A Rose, And Was

I'd Like To Get Away From Earth Awhile And Then Come Back To It And Begin Over. May No Fate Wilfully Misunderstand Me And Half Grant What I Wish And Snatch Me Away Not To Return. Earth's The Right Place For Love: I Don't Know Where It's Likely To Go Better.

Butterflies...flowers That Fly And All But Sing.

The Tree The Tempest With A Crash Of Wood Throws Down In Front Of Us Is Not To Bar Our Passage To Our Journey's End For Good, But Just To Ask Us Who We Think We Are.

O Hushed October Morning Mild, Thy Leaves Have Ripened To The Fall; Tomorrow's Wind, If It Be Wild, Should Waste Them All. The Crows Above The Forest Call; Tomorrow They May Form And Go. O Hushed October Morning Mild, Begin The Hours Of This Day Slow. Make The Day Seem To Us Less Brief. Hearts Not Averse To Being Beguiled, Beguile Us In The Way You Know. Release One Leaf At Break Of Day; At Noon Release Another Leaf; One From Our Trees, One Far Away.

Freedom Is Slavery Some Poets Tell Us. Enslave Yourself To The Right Leader's Truth, Christ's Or Karl Marx', And It Will Set You Free.