Here's another poem,like all others before and after,dedicated to you.There isn't anything left to be saidbut I will spend my lifetrying to put you into words.You who is every goodness,every optimismand hope.Your love is a better fate for methan anything I could wish for.If you are a part of me, then you’re the best part.And if you're separate from me, then you are my destination.But I’ve become a weary traveller,so please,let us never be apart.

Sometimes, when inspiration runs dry, I drink classical music until my words spill out.

All I need to dois place my pen against paperand your lovewrites for me.

We don’t find Godin temples and cathedrals.We don’t find Himby standing on a prayer rug or sitting in a pew.God appears when welove someone other than ourselves.And we continue to feel His presence when we do good for others.Because God is not foundin mosques and synagogues.He resides in ourhearts.

If your mind can move mountainsand swallow gods,Why does it worry with helpless yesterdays and unborn tomorrows?If it can vomit starsand walk on split hairs,Why must it follow the samepath to despair?Everyone will tell you:'An orgasm here is just as good.

These poems are cupsthat I pour my life into.Here, Drink!

I came to pen another poem for you, but even every unwritten poem is you.

There is no revelation in my words. I am merely stating what others have forgotten to write down.

Love, they said, burns youand builds you.But with you, there’s no ash.Just light.