And What Importance Do I Have In

There Were Thirst And Hunger, And You Were The Fruit. There Were Grief And The Ruins, And You Were The Miracle.

In The House Of Poetry Nothing Endures That Is Not Written With Blood To Be Heard With Blood.

In One Kiss, You'll Know All I Haven't Said.

Perhaps The Earth Can Teach Us As When Everything Seems Dead And Later Proves To Be Alive

Who Hasn't Sharpened The Edge Of His Soul? When, Just As Our Eyes Are Opened, We See Hate, And Just After Learning To Walk, We Are Tripped, And Just For Wanting To Love, We Are Hated, And For No More Than Touching, We Are Hurt, Which Of Us Hasn't Started To Arm Himself, To Make Himself Sharp, Somehow, Like A Knife, To Pay Back The Hurt?