How Terrible The Need For God.

My Truths Are All Foreknown,this Anguish Self-revealed.i'm Naked To The Bone,with Nakedness My Shield.

The Damage Of Teaching: The Constant Contact With The Undeveloped.

Beginnings Start Without Shade,thinner Than Minnows.the Live Grass Whirls With The Sun,feet Run Over The Simple Stones,there's Time Enough.behold, In The Lout's Eye, Love.

Love Is Not Love Until Love's Vulnerable.

But When I Breath With The Birds, The Spirit Of Wrath Becomes The Spirit Of Blessings, And The Dead Begin From Their Dark To Sing In My Sleep.