Join me in the pure atmosphere of gratitude for life.

The earth has disappeared beneath my feet, It fled from all my ecstasy. Now like a singing air creature I feel the rose keep opening.

In time of trouble avert not thy face from hope, for the soft marrow abideth in the hard bone.

What is this precious love and laughter budding in our hearts? It is the glorious sound of a soul waking up!

The small man builds cages for everyone he knows While the sage, who has to duck his head when the moon is low, Keeps dropping keys all night long For the beautiful rowdy prisoners.

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.

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