We Are Betrayed By What Is False

Lowly, With A Broken Neck, The Crocus Lays Her Cheek To Mire.

A House With A Great Wine Stored Below Lives In Our Imagination As A Joyful House, Fast And Splendidly Rooted In The Soil.

Could I Find A Place To Be Alone With Heaven, I Would Speak My Heart Out Heaven Is My Need.

What A Dusty Answer Gets The Soul When Hot For Certainties In This Our Life!

But O The Truth, The Truth. The Many Eyes That Look On It The Diverse Things They See.