We Are Not Born To

You Grieve Not That Heaven Does Not Exist But That It Exists Without Us

From What We Cannot Hold The Stars Are Made.

So This Is What I Am Pondering His Eyes That Could Not Conceive That I Was A Creature To Run From I Who Have Always Believed Too Much In Words

To Say What Or Where We Came From Has Nothing To Do With What Or Where We Came From. We Do Not Come From There Any More, But Only From Each Word That Proceeds Out Of The Mouth Of The Unnamed. And Yet Sometimes It Is Our Only Way Of Pointing To Who We Are.

This Is What I Have Heard At Last The Wind In December Lashing The Old Trees With Rain Unseen Rain Racing Along The Tiles Under The Moon Wind Rising And Falling Wind With Many Clouds Trees In The Night Wind.