Are things ever pre-ordained? After all, Who writes the script for all this misery - The spannered works, the thwarted plans, The big day when it rained?
ONE day the moon will not be wild or SMALL and seeming very far away; for any STEP we take, the distant door gets closer FOR our feet to tread one day; bright silver of A many-cratered world
As I wandered so lonesome along the sea sand A white ship came sailing afar from the land; With the voices of dreamtime, and echoes of sleep, Her captain was calling me over the deep.
Do cherries only grow on trees? I'd like to know. Are they the food of poets When they are won? Not enough are given here To please all writers of fair words.
Lord of North and South's bright wonder, Lord of Heaven's pearly skies; For his love her feet are dancing, To his heart her spirit flies ....... - - With one sweep of gilded lashes