You Pray In Your Distress

For Even As Love Crowns You So Shall He Crucify You. Even As He Is For Your Growth So Is He For Your Pruning. Even As He Ascends To Your Height And Caresses Your Tenderest Branches That Quiver In The Sun, So Shall He Descend To Your Roots And Shake Them In Their Clinging To The Earth.

The Mother Is Everything - She Is Our Consolation In Sorrow, Our Hope In Misery, And Our Strength In Weakness. She Is The Source Of Love, Mercy, Sympathy, And Forgiveness. He Who Loses His Mother Loses A Pure Soul Who Blesses And Guards Him Constantly

Poetry Is Not The Opinion Stated. It Is A Song That Appears Instead Of A Bloody Wound Or A Smiling Mouth.

Am I A Harp That The Hand Of The Mighty May Touch Me, Or A Flute That His Breath May Pass Through Me? A Seeker Of Silences Am I, And What Treasure Have I Found In Silences That I May Dispense With Confidence?

A Word I Want To See Written On My Grave: I Am Alive Like You, And I Am Standing Beside You. Close Your Eyes And Look Around, You Will See Me In Front Of You.