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Pssst. Here!

May 21, 2005

I steal these warm words like ovenfresh bread from between the lips of the old poets who sing past their graves of life and love. Between your palms I slip these stolen goods. Furtive and skillful and lawless as a backbench pupil passing notes in class...Pssst. Here!

Even after all this time
The sun never says to the earth,
"You Owe Me."

Look what happens with
A love like that,
It lights the Whole Sky.


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Projects I'm Involved With

"Service doesn't start when you have something to give; it blossoms naturally when you have nothing left to take."

"Real privilege lies in knowing that you have enough."