The artist must create himself or be born again.
We must breathe time as fishes breathe water.
You have come to the shore. There are no instructions.
Both art and faith are dependent on imagination; both are ventures into the unknown.
In city, in suburb, in forest, no way to stretch out the arms - so if you would grow, go straight up or deep down.
In the dark I rest, unready for the light which dawns day after day, eager to be shared. Black silk, shelter me. I need more of the night before I open eyes and heart to illumination. I must still grow in the dark like a root not ready, not ready at all.