Too Much Reality Can Be A Dazzle,

Any Fool Can Take A Bad Line Out Of A Poem; It Takes A Real Pro To Throw Out A Good Line.

Light Takes The Tree; But Who Can Tell Us How? The Lowly Worm Climbs Up A Winding Stair; I Wake To Sleep, And Take My Waking Slow. Great Nature Has Another Thing To Do To You And Me, So Take The Lively Air, And, Lovely, Learn By Going Where To Go. This Shaking Keeps Me Steady. I Should Know. What Falls Away Is Always. And Is Near. I Wake To Sleep, And Take My Waking Slow. I Learn By Going Where I Have To Go.

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

Death Was Not. I Lived In A Simple Drowse:hands And Hair Moved Through A Dream Of Wakening Blossoms.rain Sweetened The Cave And The Dove Still Called;the Flowers Leaned On Themselves, The Flowers In Hollows;and Love, Love Sang Toward.

Those Who Are Willing To Be Vulnerable Move Among Mysteries.