Truth And Dreams Are Always Getting Muddled.

We Come To A Lamp Beside The Pathway, And Suddenly We Stop Walking, And We Start To Dance, And We Glitter In The Shafts Of Light, Like Stars, Like Flies, Like Flakes Of Dust.

I Sit In My Tree I Sing Like The Birds My Beak Is My Pen My Songs Are My Poems.

Writing Will Be Like A Journey, Every Word A Footstep That Takes Me Further Into Undiscovered Land.

Words Should Wander And Meander. They Should Fly Like Owls And Flicker Like Bats And Slip Like Cats. They Should Murmur And Scream And Dance And Sing.

This Is Our World. Aye, There's More Than Enough Of Darkness In It. But Over Everything There's All This Joy, Kit. There's All This Lovely, Lovely Light.