I Have Gone Into The Waste Lonely

I Wake To Sleep, And Take My Waking Slow. I Feel My Fate In What I Cannot Fear. I Learn By Going Where I Have To Go.

The Darkness Has It's Own Light.

I Long For The Imperishable Quiet At The Heart Of Form.

Should We Say The Self, Once Perceived, Becomes The Soul?

What Is Madness But Nobility Of Soul At Odds With Circumstance?