Oh Each Successive Night That Comes Has

Love Has To Be…flowering Like The Stars, And Measureless As A Kiss.

And I Watch My Words From A Long Way Off. They Are More Yours Than Mine. They Climb On My Old Suffering Like Ivy.

As Slippery As Smooth Grapes, Words Exploding In The Light Like Dormant Seeds Waiting In The Vaults Of Vocabulary, Alive Again, And Giving Life: Once Again The Heart Distills Them.

Who Hasn't Sharpened The Edge Of His Soul? When, Just As Our Eyes Are Opened, We See Hate, And Just After Learning To Walk, We Are Tripped, And Just For Wanting To Love, We Are Hated, And For No More Than Touching, We Are Hurt, Which Of Us Hasn't Started To Arm Himself, To Make Himself Sharp, Somehow, Like A Knife, To Pay Back The Hurt?

O Merry, Merry, Merry, Like Only Dogs Know How To Be Happy And Nothing More, With An Absolute Shameless Nature.