Why Wait For Death To Mow? Why

Love, Why Have You Sought The Horde Of Spearsmen, Why The Tent Achilles Pitched Beside The River-ford?

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.

You Will Not See That Desire Begets Love, Until It All Flames Into One Concise And Metallic Blaze.

No One Knows The Colour Of A Flower Till It Is Broken.

I Knew The Poor, I Knew The Hideous Death They Die, When Famine Lays Its Bleak Hand On The Door; I Knew The Rich, Sated With Merriment, Who Yet Are Sad.