What The Soul Is To The Body,

The Poet Is An Untier Of Knots, And Love Without Words Is A Knot, And It Drowns.

Let The Earth Look At Me, And Bless Me, For Now I Am Fecund And Sacred, Like The Palms And The Furrows.

Love That Stammers, That Stutters, Is Apt To Be The Love That Loves Best.

Many Things Can Wait. Children Cannot. Today Their Bones Are Being Formed, Their Blood Is Being Made, Their Senses Are Being Developed. To Them We Cannot Say "tomorrow." Their Name Is Today.

You Shall Create Beauty Not To Excite The Senses But To Give Sustenance To The Soul.