We Are Asleep With Compasses In Our

Sitting Over Words Very Late I Have Heard A Kind Of Whispered Sighing Not Far Like A Night Wind In Pines Or Like The Sea In The Dark The Echo Of Everything That Has Ever Been Spoken Still Spinning Its One Syllable Between The Earth And Silence.

In The Time That I Have Been Acquainted With This Region I Have Become Increasingly Aware Of It As A Testament Of Water, The Origin And Guide Of Its Contours And Gradients And Of All The Lives - The Plants And Small Creatures, And The Culture - That Evolved Here. That Was Always Here To Be Seen, Of Course, And The Recognition Has Forced Itself, In One Form Or Other, Upon People In Every Part Of The World Who Have Been Directly Involved With The Growing Of Living Things. The Gardener Who Ignores It Is Soon Left With No Garden.

We Are Not Born To Survive. Only To Live.

Through All Of Youth I Was Looking For You Without Knowing What I Was Looking For Part Memory Part Distance Remaining Mine In The Ways That I Learn To Miss You From What We Cannot Hold The Stars Are Made.

I'm Very Pessimistic About The Future Of The Human Species. We Have Been So Indifferent To Life On The Whole That It Will Take Its Toll. It's Not Just The Polar Bears That Are Having A Hard Time; What We're Doing Is Gradually Impoverishing And Poisoning The Whole Of The Rest Of Life.