Solitude Is The Salt Of Personhood. It

When We Admit Our Vulnerability, We Include Others. If We Deny It, We Shut Them Out.

When One's Not Writing Poems - And I'm Not At The Moment - You Wonder How You Ever Did It. It's Like Another Country You Can't Reach.

What Is Destructive Is Impatience, Haste, Expecting Too Much Too Fast.

A House That Does Not Have One Warm, Comfy Chair In It Is Soulless.

It Is The Place Of Renewal And Of Safety, Where For A Little While There Will Be No Harm Or Attack And, While Every Sense Is Nourished, The Soul Rests.