Nothing Would Give Up Life:

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

What Falls Away Is Always. And Is Near.

To Follow The Drops Sliding From A Lifting Oar, Head Up, While The Rower Breathes, And The Small Boat Drifts Quietly Shoreward.

A Lively Understandable Spirit Once Entertained You. It Will Come Again. Be Still. Wait.

In A Dark Time, The Mind Begins To See.