That Which Is False Troubles The Heart,

What Is Planted In Each Person's Soul Will Sprout.

Oh Soul, You Worry Too Much. You Have Seen Your Own Strength. You Have Seen Your Own Beauty. You Have Seen Your Golden Wings. Of Anything Less, Why Do You Worry? You Are In Truth The Soul, Of The Soul, Of The Soul.

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.

Now Is The Time To Unite The Soul And The World. Now Is The Time To See The Sunlight Dancing As One With The Shadows.

God Picks Up The Reed-flute World And Blows. Each Note Is A Need Coming Through One Of Us, A Passion, A Longing Pain. Remember The Lips Where The Wind-breath Originated, And Let Your Note Be Clear. Don't Try To End It. Be Your Note.