Forms are born of an open hand.
But there is one that is born of the closed hand...

A note has been lost.
We do not know the compass nor the scale...

For thy presence from me has departed,
and your spirit in me has grown cold as ice...

For long my people have waited,
time has passed, now screen trespass...

She is cute,
she is funny...

I know you,
know that I knew...

My feelings for her blazed,
slowly and slowly like first light on the land...

Crack of imminence in the heart,
while the foot of hope...

Endless words,
dipped in religious colors...

A heart without emotional response to love is of a...

A net of looking
holds the world together...

An immeasurable sacrifice,
an abundant grace...