short poem

Love adorns itself;

It seeks to prove inward joy by outward beauty.

Love does not claim possession,

but gives freedom.

Love is an endless mystery,

for it has nothing else to explain it.

Love's gift cannot be given,

it waits to be accepted.

*

Asks the Possible of the Impossible,

"Where is your dwelling-place?"

"In the dreams of the Impotent,"

Comes the answer

A dewdrop is a perfect integrity

That has no filial memory of its parentage.

A mind all logic is like a knife all blade.

It makes the hand bleed that uses it.