As You Start To Walk On The

We Must Die To Become True Human Beings.

Poems Are Rough Notations For The Music We Are.

The Heart Is Like A Candle, Longing To Be Lit!

If The Foot Of The Trees Were Not Tied To Earth, They Would Be Pursuing Me; For I Have Blossomed So Much, I Am The Envy Of The Gardens.

O My Choice Beauty You've Gone But Your Love Remains In My Heart Your Image In My Eye O Guide On My Winding Road I Keep Turning Round And Round In The Hopes Of Finding You