A poet is someone Who can pour Light into a spoon, Then raise it To nourish Your beautiful parched, holy mouth.

It is not easy to stop thinking ill of others.Usually one must enter into a friendship with a person who has accomplished that great feat himself.Then something might start to rub off on you of that true elegance.

How did the rose ever open its heart and give to this world all of its beauty? It felt the encouragement of Light against its being; otherwise we all remain too frightened.

Now is the time to understand That all your ideas of right and wrong Were just a child's training wheelsTo be laid aside When you finally live With veracity And love.

I am happy even before I have a reason.

Come in, my dearFrom that harsh worldThat has rained elements of stoneUpon your tender face.Every soulShould receive a toast from usFor bravery!

There are different wells within your heart. Some fill with each good rain, Others are far too deep for that.