What I Had Thought Of Before As

In Winter The Bare Boughs That Seem To Sleep Work Covertly, Preparing For Their Spring.

I Am Your Own Voice Echoing Off The Walls Of God

When Water Is Still Like A Mirror It Can Behold The Moon.

Water, Stories, The Body, All The Things We Do, Are Mediums That Hid And Show What's Hidden.

If The Beautiful One Is Not Inside You, Then What Is That Light Hidden Under Your Cloak?