Come To The Root Of

You Are An Ocean In A Drop Of Dew, All The Universes In A Thin Sack Of Blood. What Are These Pleasures Then, These Joys, These Worlds That You Keep Reaching For, Hoping They Will Make You More Alive?

The Glance Of Love Is Crystal Clear.

Do You Think I Know What I'm Doing? That For One Breath Or Half-breath I Belong To Myself? As Much As A Pen Knows What It's Writing, Or The Ball Can Guess Where It's Going Next.

We Bury Our Seeds And Wait, Winter Blocks The Road, Flowers Are Taken Prisoner Underground, But Then Green Justice Tenders A Spear

Who Gets Up Early To Discover The Moment Light Begins?