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.

Over every mountain there is a path, although it may not be seen from the valley.

The stones were sharp, The wind came at my back; Walking along the highway, Mincing like a cat.

The visible exhausts me. I am dissolved in shadow.

In this place of light: he dares to live Who stops being a bird, yet beats his wings Against the immense immeasurable emptiness of things.

So much of adolescence is an ill-defined dying, An intolerable waiting, A longing for another place and time, Another condition.

I long for the imperishable quiet at the heart of form.