A Thousand Half-loves Must Be Forsaken To

O Love, O Pure Deep Love, Be Here, Be Now, Be All.

I Love Myself...i Love You. I Love You...i Love Myself.

This Is How It Always Is When I Finish A Poem. A Great Silence Overcomes Me And I Wonder Why I Ever Thought To Use Language.

Dear Soul, Don't Set A High Value On Someone Before They Deserve It; You Either Lose Them Or Ruin Yourself...!

Sorrow Prepares You For Joy. It Violently Sweeps Everything Out Of Your House, So That New Joy Can Find Space To Enter. It Shakes The Yellow Leaves From The Bough Of Your Heart, So That Fresh, Green Leaves Can Grow In Their Place. It Pulls Up The Rotten Roots, So That New Roots Hidden Beneath Have Room To Grow. Whatever Sorrow Shakes From Your Heart, Far Better Things Will Take Their Place.