A True Friend Is A Light In

She Was The Breeze On A Summer's Day, The First Drops Of Rain When The Earth Was Parched, Light From The Evening Star.

She Hadn't Wanted To Be Loved Carefully, Only Well.

When Reason Sleeps, The Monsters Of Repression Will Emerge.

True Love, It's Like An Illness. I Never Understood It Before. In Books And Plays. Poems. I Never Understood What Drove Otherwise Intelligent, Right-thinking People To Do Such Extravagant, Irrational Things. Now I Do. It's An Illness. You Can Catch It When You Least Expect. There's No Known Cure. And Sometimes, In Its Most Extreme, It's Fatal.

I've Heard It Said That Children Born To Stressful Times Never Shake The Air Of Woe . . . .