He Who Has Nothing—it Has Been Said

Who Writes Your Name In Letters Of Smoke Among The Stars Of The South? Oh Let Me Remember You As You Were Before You Existed.

Once More I Am The Silent One Who Came Out Of The Distance Wrapped In Cold Rain And Bells: I Owe To Earth's Pure Death The Will To Sprout.

He Who Has Nothing—it Has Been Said Many Times—has Nothing To Lose But His Chains.

If Each Day Falls Inside Each Night, There Exists A Well Where Clarity Is Imprisoned. We Need To Sit On The Rim Of The Well Of Darkness And Fish For Fallen Light With Patience.

I Can Write The Saddest Poem Of All Tonight. I Loved Her, And Sometimes She Loved Me Too.