Our Pain Carves Out A

Thus With My Lips Have I Denounced You, While My Heart, Bleeding Within Me, Called You Tender Names. It Was Love Lashed By Its Own Self That Spoke. It Was Pride Half Slain That Fluttered In The Dust. It Was My Hunger For Your Love That Raged From The Housetop, While My Own Love, Kneeling In Silence, Prayed Your Forgiveness.

He Who Passes Not His Days In The Realm Of Dreams Is The Slave Of The Days.

The Teacher Gives Not Of His Wisdom, But Rather Of His Faith And Lovingness.

The Creator Gives No Heed To The Critic Unless He Becomes A Barren Inventor.

Give And Take... For To The Bee A Flower Is A Fountain If Life And To The Flower A Bee Is A Messenger Of Love And To Both, Bee And Flower, The Giving And The Receiving Is A Need And An Ecstasy.