A Pen Went Scribbling Along. When It

Beyond The Rightness Or Wrongness Of Things There Is A Field, I'll Meet You There

Each Has To Enter The Nest Made By The Other Imperfect Bird.

I Love Myself...i Love You. I Love You...i Love Myself.

In The Garden I See Only Your Face From Trees And Blossoms I Inhale Only Your Fragrance.

If The Beautiful One Is Not Inside You, Then What Is That Light Hidden Under Your Cloak?