Over Every Mountain There Is A Path,

Civilization Is Over-rated, But There Isn't Much Else.

Live In A Perpetual Great Astonishment.

My Papa's Waltz: The Whiskey On Your Breath Could Make A Small Boy Dizzy; But I Hung On Like Death: Such Waltzing Was Not Easy. We Romped Until The Pans Slid From The Kitchen Shelf; My Mother's Countenance Could Not Unfrown Itself. The Hand That Held My Wrist Was Battered On One Knuckle; At Every Step You Missed My Right Ear Scraped A Buckle. You Beat Time On My Head With A Palm Caked Hard By Dirt, Then Waltzed Me Off To Bed Still Clinging To Your Shirt.

In This Place Of Light: He Dares To Live Who Stops Being A Bird, Yet Beats His Wings Against The Immense Immeasurable Emptiness Of Things.

What Have I Done, Dear God, To Deserve This Perpetual Feeling That I'm Almost Ready To Begin Something Really New?