Treasures And Armies Do Not Make A

Be A Spot Of Ground Where Nothing Is Growing, Where Something Might Be Planted, A Seed, Possibly, From The Absolute.

Your Hand Opens And Closes And Opens And Closes. If It Were Always A Fist Or Always Stretched Open, You Would Be Paralyzed.

True Beauty Is A Ray That Springs From The Sacred Depths Of The Soul.

Some Nights Stay Up Till Dawn, As The Moon Sometimes Does For The Sun. Be A Full Bucket Pulled Up The Dark Way Of A Well, Then Lifted Out Into Light.

When Someone Mentions The Gracefulness Of The Night Sky, Climb Up On The Roof And Dance And Say, Like This?