A day which passed without a poem from my pen I considered lost and misused.

It is easy to tell the toiler How best he can carry his pack But no one can rate a burden's weight Until it has been on his back

There is no language that love does not speak.

High in the heavens I saw the moon this morning, Albeit the sun shone bright; Unto my soul it spoke, in voice of warning, "Remember Night!"

A day which passed without a poem from my pen I considered lost and misused.

I Love your lips when they're wet with wine and red with wicked desire.

The dark today leads into light tomorrow. There is no endless joy, and yet no endless sorrow.