The small man
Builds cages for everyone
He
Knows.
While the sage,
Who has to duck his head
When the moon is low,
Keeps dropping keys all night long
For the
Beautiful
Rowdy
Prisoners.
Too late I loved you, O Beauty so ancient yet ever new! Too late I loved you! And, behold, you were within me, and I out of myself, and there I searched for you.
We pray least when we say most.
Love comes from within you. When you ask for love from one another, you miss the very source of love. When you give love to another, you find the source of love within you.
Inasmuch as love grows in you, so in you beauty grows. For love is the beauty of the soul.