The sea isn't a place but a fact, and a mystery.

You want to cry aloud for your mistakes. But to tell the truth the world doesn't need any more of that sound.

Sing, if you can sing, and it not still be musical inside yourself.

But the owls themselves are not hard to find, silent and on the wing, with their ear tufts flat against their heads as they fly and their huge wings alternately gliding and flapping as they maneuver through the trees. Athena's owl of wisdom and Merlin's companion, Archimedes, were screech owls surely, not this bird with the glassy gaze, restless on the bough, nothing but blood on its mind.

Don't we all die someday and someday comes all too soon? What will you do with your own wild, glorious chance at this thing we call life.

One thing I do know is that poetry, to be understood, must be clear.

Look, hasn't my body already felt like the body of a flower?