THE MIND EVER seeks its words
from its sounds and silence
as the sky from its darkness and light.

I AM IN the world of the roads.
The night comes. Open thy gate, thou world of the home.

O THAT I were stored with a secret, like unshed rain in summer clouds-a secret, folded up in silence, that I could wander away with.
        O that I had some one to whisper to, where slow waters lap under trees that doze in the sun.
        The hush this evening seems to expect a footfall, and you ask me for the cause of my tears.
        I cannot give a reason why I weep, for that is a secret still withheld from me.