I Am A Fugitive And A Vagabond,

Make Connections; Let Rip; And Dance Where You Can.

Today Is One Of Those Excellent January Partly Cloudies In Which Light Chooses An Unexpected Part Of The Landscape To Trick Out In Gilt, And Then The Shadow Sweeps It Away. You Know You're Alive. You Take Huge Steps, Trying To Feel The Planet's Roundness Arc Between Your Feet.

Whenever There Is Stillness There Is The Still Small Voice, God's Speaking From The Whirlwind, Nature's Old Song, And Dance.

I Know Only Enough Of God To Want To Worship Him, By Any Means Ready To Hand.

Cruelty Is A Mystery, And A Waste Of Pain.