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Half the fortune . . .
Half the bottle . . .
Half that I was . . .
Half that is here.
So the past,
such bliss.
Becomes my drinks,
throughout my life.
Old lucre days
so poisonous to me.
Old friends now gone
so silent here . . .
One day that was,
a day I was.
A day that was not,
one day I was not.
There are two windows in front of me. One is closed, the other is open; a thought comes to me . . . ̈Is this fair? ̈ One will always choose freedom rather than remain as a prisoner gleans to this oppo
Beauty is the bright light of the moon at night. The silent place of wonder . But the sunrise in the morning is otherworldly. The light of morning is coming through.with the smell of morning dew. For