You Grieve Not That Heaven

I Have Been Younger In October Than In All The Months Of Spring.

Through All Of Youth I Was Looking For You Without Knowing What I Was Looking For Part Memory Part Distance Remaining Mine In The Ways That I Learn To Miss You From What We Cannot Hold The Stars Are Made.

Poetry Is A Way Of Looking At The World For The First Time.

Every Year Without Knowing It I Have Passed The Day When The Last Fires Will Wave To Me

We Are Not Born To Survive. Only To Live.