Although You See The Pit, You Cannot

The Cure For Pain Is In The Pain. Good And Bad Are Mixed. If You Don't Have Both, You Don't Belong With Us.

In Winter The Bare Boughs That Seem To Sleep Work Covertly, Preparing For Their Spring.

I Want To See You. Know Your Voice. Recognize You When You First Come 'round The Corner. Sense Your Scent When I Come Into A Room You've Just Left. Know The Lift Of Your Heel, The Glide Of Your Foot. Become Familiar With The Way You Purse Your Lips Then Let Them Part, Just The Slightest Bit, When I Lean In To Your Space And Kiss You. I Want To Know The Joy Of How You Whisper "more

He Who Tastes Not, Knows Not.

Leave That Which Is Not, But Appears To Be. Seek That Which Is, But Is Not Apparent.