No One Knows The Colour Of A

Not God With Wine, Nor Death, Nor Hate For A Cry, But God With A Song

Alas, Day, You Brought Light, You Trailed Splendour You Showed Us God: I Salute You, Most Precious One, But I Go To A New Place, Another Life.

We Don't Have To Know,only To Be:let Go The Jumble Of Worn Words,reason And Vanity.

In My Garden The Winds Have Beaten The Ripe Lilies; In My Garden, The Salt Has Wilted The First Flakes Of Young Narcissus.

When The Shingles Hissed In The Rain Incendiary, Other Values Were Revealed To Us