I Do Think That All

I Grew Up In St. Louis In A Tiny House Full Of Large Music - Mahalia Jackson And Marian Anderson Singing Majestically On The Stereo, My German-american Mother Fingering 'the Lost Chord' On The Piano As Golden Light Sank Through Trees, My Palestinian Father Trilling In Arabic In The Shower Each Dawn.

Since There Is No Place Large Enough To Contain So Much Happiness, You Shrug, You Raise Your Hands, And It Flows Out Of You Into Everything You Touch. You Are Not Responsible. You Take No Credit, As The Night Sky Takes No Credit For The Moon, But Continues To Hold It, And Share It, And In That Way, Be Known.

You Will Never Catch Up. Walk Around Feeling Like A Leaf Know You Could Tumble At Any Second. Then Decide What To Do With Your Time. --the Art Of Disappearing

Before You Know What Kindness Really Is You Must Lose Things, Feel The Future Dissolve In A Moment Like Salt In A Weakened Broth.

There Is A Place To Stand Where You Can See So Many Lights You Forget You Are One Of Them.