Art is our defense against hysteria and death.
I long for the imperishable quiet at the heart of form.
Wake the happy words.
A lively understandable spirit Once entertained you. It will come again. Be still. Wait.
The fields stretch out in long unbroken rows. We walk aware of what is far and close. Here distance is familiar as a friend. The feud we kept with space comes to an end.
Love begets love. This torment is my joy.