Let Our Scars Fall In

Sometimes It Is Necessary To Reteach A Thing Its Loveliness

I Start Off But I Don't Know Where I'm Going; I Try This Avenue And That Avenue, That Turns Out To Be A Dead End, This Is A Dead End, And So On. The Search Takes A Long Time And I Have To Back-track Often.

The Bud Stands For All Things, Even For Those Things That Don't Flower

This One Whom Habit Of Memory Propels To The Ground Of His Making, Sleeper Only The Mortal Sounds Can Sing Awake, This Blessing Love Gives Again Into Our Arms.

Thats The Way It Is With Poetry: When It Is Incomprehensible It Seems Profound, And When You Understand It, It Is Only Ridiculous.