Anything Seems Possible At Night

I Sit In My Tree I Sing Like The Birds My Beak Is My Pen My Songs Are My Poems.

When You Grow Up", I Said, "do You Ever Stop Feeling Little And Weak?" "no," She Says. "there's Always A Little Frail And Tiny Thing Inside, No Matter How Grown-up You Are.

Sometimes We Just Have To Accept There Are Things We Can’t Know. Why Is Your Sister Ill? Why Did My Father Die?…sometimes We Think We Should Be Able To Know Everything. But We Can’t. We Have To Allow Ourselves To See What There Is To See, And We Have To Imagine.

We Come To A Lamp Beside The Pathway, And Suddenly We Stop Walking, And We Start To Dance, And We Glitter In The Shafts Of Light, Like Stars, Like Flies, Like Flakes Of Dust.

Anything Seems Possible At Night When The Rest Of The World Has Gone To Sleep.