Adult Bats Don't Weigh Much. They're Mainly

Habit, A Particularly Insidious Thug Who Chokes Passion And Smothers Love. Habit Puts Us On Autopilot.

Poetry Reminds Us Of The Truths About Life And Human Nature That We Knew All Along, But Forgot Somehow Because They Weren't Yet In Memorable Language.

I'm Fascinated How Often And With What Whole-heartedness People Will Risk Their Lives To Perform Acts Of Courage, Sacrifice, And Compassion For Total Strangers.

When I Go Biking, I Repeat A Mantra Of The Day's Sensations: Bright Sun, Blue Sky, Warm Breeze, Blue Jay's Call, Ice Melting And So On. This Helps Me Transcend The Traffic, Ignore The Clamorings Of Work, Leave All The Mind Theaters Behind And Focus On Nature Instead. I Still Must Abide By The Rules Of The Road, Of Biking, Of Gravity. But I Am Mentally Far Away From Civilization. The World Is Breaking Someone Else's Heart.

After All, Coffee Is Bitter, A Flavor From The Forbidden And Dangerous Realm.