I Always Thought That I Was Me

There Is A Way Between Voice And Presence, Where Information Flows. In Disciplined Silence It Opens; With Wandering Talk It Closes.

I Saw Grief Drinking A Cup Of Sorrow And Called Out, 'it Tastes Sweet, Does It Not?' 'you've Caught Me,' Grief Answered, 'and You've Ruined My Business. How Can I Sell Sorrow, When You Know It's A Blessing?

Everyone Turns Toward Someone. Look For One Scarred By The King's Polo Stick.

When We Talk About God, We’re Like A School Of Fish, Discussing The Possible Existence Of The Sea.

There Are Many Ways To The Divine. I Have Chosen The Ways Of Song, Dance, And Laughter.