Moon, for what do you wait?
To salute the sun for whom I must make way.
The trees come up to my window like the yearning voice of the dumb earth.
My heart beats her waves at the shore of the world and writes upon it her signature in tears with the words, “I love thee.”
You smiled and talked to me of nothing and I felt that for this I had been waiting long.
He has made his weapons his gods. When his weapons win he is defeated himself.
His own mornings are new surprises to God.