words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup • they slither while they pass • they slip away across the universe • pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind • possessing and caressing me
Monday, September 12, 2005
Alone Looking at the Mountain
All the birds have flown up and gone; A lonely cloud floats leisurely by. We never tire of looking at each other - Only the mountain and I.