In A Dark Time, The Mind Begins

Over Every Mountain There Is A Path, Although It May Not Be Seen From The Valley.

A Lively Understandable Spirit Once Entertained You. It Will Come Again. Be Still. Wait.

I'm Sure I've Been A Toad, One Time Or Another. With Bats, Weasels, Worms...i Rejoice In The Kinship. Even The Caterpillar I Can Love, And The Various Vermin.

So Much Of Adolescence Is An Ill-defined Dying, An Intolerable Waiting, A Longing For Another Place And Time, Another Condition.

And Soon A Branch, Part Of A Hidden Scene,the Leafy Mind, That Long Was Tightly Furled,will Turn Its Private Substance Into Green,and Young Shoots Spread Upon Our Inner World.