This Mental Space Is Occupied And Everything

My Heart Sings Of Your Longing For Me, And My Thoughts Climb Down To Marvel At Your Mercy. I Do Not Fear As You Gather Up My Days. Your Name Is The Sweetness Of Time, And You Carry Me Close Into The Night, Speaking Consolations, Drawing Down Lights From The Sky, Saying, See How The Night Has No Terrors For One Who Remembers The Name.

The Winter Has Not Killed Usagain!

I Am Not The One Who Loves - It's Love That Chooses Me.

Out Of The Thousands Who Are Known Or Who Want To Be Known As Poets, Maybe One Or Two Are Genuine And The Rest Are Fakes, Hanging Around The Sacred Precincts, Trying To Look Like The Real Thing.

I Feel That This Is A Vocabulary That I Grew Up With. This Biblical Landscape Is Very Familiar To Me, And It's Natural That I Use Those Landmarks As References. Once They Were Universal References And Everybody Understood And Knew Them And Located Them. That's No Longer The Case Today, But It Is Still My Landscape.