We invent nothing. We borrow and recreate. We uncover and discover. All has been given. . . . We have only to open our eyes and hearts to become one with that which is.
~ by Henry Miller
I part the out thrusting branches
and come in beneath
the blessed and the blessing trees.
Though I am silent
there is singing around me.
Though I am dark
there is vision around me.
Though I am heavy
there is flight around me.