In Dreams The Truth Is Learned That

I'm Writing All The Time. And As The Songs Begin To Coalesce, I'm Not Doing Anything Else But Writing. I Wish I Were One Of Those People Who Wrote Songs Quickly. But I'm Not. So It Takes Me A Great Deal Of Time To Find Out What The Song Is.

You Should Go From Place To Place Recovering The Poems That Have Been Written For You To Which You Can Affix Your Signature. Don't Discuss These Matters With Anyone. Retrieve. Retrieve. When The Basket Is Full Someone Will Appear To Whom You Can Present It.

Now Suzanne Takes You Hand And She Leads You To The River She Is Wearing Rags And Feathers From Salvation Army Counters And The Sun Pours Down Like Honey On Our Lady Of The Harbour And She Shows You Where To Look Among The Garbage And The Flowers There Are Heroes In The Seaweed There Are Children In The Morning They Are Leaning Out For Love And They Will Lean That Way Forever While Suzanne Holds The Mirror And You Want To Travel With Her And You Want To Travel Blind And You Know That She Will Trust You For Shes Touched Your Perfect Body With Her Mind.

My Heart Sings Of Your Longing For Me, And My Thoughts Climb Down To Marvel At Your Mercy. I Do Not Fear As You Gather Up My Days. Your Name Is The Sweetness Of Time, And You Carry Me Close Into The Night, Speaking Consolations, Drawing Down Lights From The Sky, Saying, See How The Night Has No Terrors For One Who Remembers The Name.

The Psychologists Are Valiantly Trying To Provide Us With Answers, The Religious People Are Trying To Provide Us With Answers. I Think It Properly Falls On The Cultural Workers To Investigate This Predicament With A Little Less Concern For The Marketplace And A Little More Concern For Their Higher Calling.