Welcome to a sanctified place was in essence what they said to me, not with their hands or their lips, but their twinkling eyes, the...

I made my way home, over the damp carpet of leaves upon the path, the soft, sinewy squish of their moss-like flesh, those remnants of the...

Dawn poems of majesty; longings for God— whatever I have written is for Her and Her alone, be I abased, outlawed, dejected by my Self, or...

Dawn is quick, but Love is slow, patient flower to be sewn in hostility of snow strong like thousand year-old stone. Night is long, but...

Trees are like wooden tomes, volumes of the history of Earth encapsulated, ringlets, snapshots, centuries in lines unintelligible,...

Warmed by the sparrows perched atop the trees, I go, to make my presence known to thee, along a path that winds and yet is still, ...

I wrote you a brief and painless poem, a shortest rapture; wounds, however, shine to me like scimitars in the Sun, like shining swords...

God struck a match, scraped it upon the chafing flat of this horizon and set aflame our sun, who burns with the pure fire of eternal...