It's All The Unwordable Things One Wants

I Was Not Ready For Abstraction. I Clung To Earth And Her Dear Shapes, Her Density, Her Herbage, Her Juice. I Wanted Her Volume, And I Wanted To Hear Her Throb.

When You Really Think About Your Hand You Begin To Realize Its Connection, To Sense The Hum Of Your Own Being Passing Through It. When We Look At A Piece Of The Universe We Should Feel The Same.

Cedars Are Terribly Sensitive To Change Of Time And Light - Sometimes They Are Bluish Cold-green, Then They Turn Yellow Warm-green - Sometimes Their Boughs Flop Heavy And Sometimes Float, Then They Are Fairy As Ferns And Then They Droop, Heavy As Heartaches.

There Is Something Bigger Than Fact: The Underlying Spirit, All It Stands For, The Mood, The Vastness, The Wildness.

I Can Rise Above The Humility Of My Failure With An Intense Desire To Search Deeper And A Blind Faith That Some Day My Sight May Pierce Through The Veils That Hide. I Know God's Face Is There If I Keep My Gaze Steady Enough.