Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies.
And be it gash or gold it will not come
Again in this identical disguise.

Live not for Battles Won.
Live not for The-End-of-the-Song.
Live in the along.

Truth

And if sun comes
How shall we greet him?
Shall we not dread him,
Shall we not fear him
After so lengthy a
Session with shade?

Though we have wept for him,
Though we have prayed
All through the night-years—
What if we wake one shimmering morning to
Hear the fierce hammering
Of his firm knuckles
Hard on the door?

Shall we not shudder?—
Shall we not flee
Into the shelter, the dear thick shelter
Of the familiar
Propitious haze?

Sweet is it, sweet is it
To sleep in the coolness
Of snug unawareness.

The dark hangs heavily
Over the eyes.

Very early in life I became fascinated with the wonders language can achieve. And I began playing with words.

Each body has its art…

When you use the term minority or minorities in reference to people, you're telling them that they're less than somebody else.