Pain Wanders Through My Bones Like A

Art Is The Means We Have Of Undoing The Damage Of Haste. It's What Everything Else Isn't.

And I Rejoiced In Being What I Was.

I Lose And Find Myself In The Long Water. I Am Gathered Together Once More.

I Am Overwhelmed By The Beautiful Disorder Of Poetry, The Eternal Virginity Of Words.

In This Place Of Light: He Dares To Live Who Stops Being A Bird, Yet Beats His Wings Against The Immense Immeasurable Emptiness Of Things.