Am I Less Man Because

Poetry, My Dear Friends, Is A Sacred Incarnation Of A Smile. Poetry Is A Sigh That Dries The Tears. Poetry Is A Spirit Who Dwells In The Soul, Whose Nourishment Is The Heart, Whose Wine Is Affection. Poetry That Comes Not In This Form Is A False Messiah.

Your Hearts Know In Silence The Secrets Of The Days And The Nights. But Your Ears Thirst For The Sound Of The Heart's Knowledge. You Would Know In Words That Which You Have Always Known In Thought. You Would Touch With Your Fingers The Naked Body Of The Dreams.

Our Pain Carves Out A Larger Space For Love To Fill.

God Has Created Several Doors Which Open Onto Truth. He Opens Them To All Those Who Knock On Them With The Hand Of Faith.

For The Sight Of The Angry Weather Saddens My Soul And The Sight Of The Town, Sitting Like A Bereaved Mother Beneath Layers Of Ice, Oppresses My Heart.