I am renewed by death, thought of my death, The dry scent of a dying garden in September,...
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May you live out your life Without hate, without grief...
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If only I could nudge you from this sleep, My maimed darling, my skittery pigeon....
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A mind too active is no mind at all.
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Nothing would give up life; Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.
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Death of the self in a long, tearless night, All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.
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In a dark time, the eye begins to see.
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What we need is more people who specialize in the impossible.
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The mind enters itself, and God the mind, And one is One, free in the tearing wind.
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I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go.
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