I Am Sunlight Slicing The Dark.

Close The Language-door, And Open The Love-window

Limp Along Until Your Legs Are Spent, And You Fall Flat And Your Energy Is Drained. Then The Grace Of The Divine Will Lift You.

My Soul Is From Elsewhere, I'm Sure Of That, And I Intend To End Up There.

Forget Every Touch Or Sound That Did Not Teach You How To Dance

Every Fragile Beauty, Every Perfect Forgotten Sentence, You Grieve Their Going Away, But That Is Not How It Is. Where They Come From Never Goes Dry. It Is An Always Flowing Spring.