I Have Gone Into The Waste Lonely

What Falls Away Is Always. And Is Near.

Love Begets Love. This Torment Is My Joy.

But When I Breath With The Birds, The Spirit Of Wrath Becomes The Spirit Of Blessings, And The Dead Begin From Their Dark To Sing In My Sleep.

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.

A Too Explicit Elucidation In Education Destroys Much Of The Pleasure Of Learning. There Should Be Room For Sly Hinters, Masters Of Suggestion.