Happiness Is A Vine That

I Said To Life, I Would Hear Death Speak. And Life Raised Her Voice A Little Higher And Said, You Hear Him Now.

How Beautiful To Find A Heart That Loves You, Without Asking You For Anything, But To Be Okay.

Trees Are Poems The Earth Writes Upon The Sky, We Fell Them Down And Turn Them Into Paper, That We May Record Our Emptiness.

Nature Reaches Out To Us With Welcoming Arms, And Bids Us Enjoy Her Beauty; But We Dread Her Silence And Rush Into The Crowded Cities, There To Huddle Like Sheep Fleeing From A Ferocious Wolf.

For The Vision Of One Man Lends Not Its Wings To Another Man.