The More Debris There Is The More

We Have The Marvelous Gift Of Making Everything Insignificant.

There Are People Who Exist In This World Not Like Entities But Like The Speckles Or Spots On Something.

Everywhere Across Whatever Sorrows Of Which Our Life Is Woven, Some Radiant Joy Will Gaily Flash Past.

Don't Blame The Mirror If Your Face Is Faulty.

Ah, Steeds, Steeds, What Steeds! Has The Whirlwind A Home In Your Manes? Is There A Sensitive Ear, Alert As A Flame, In Your Every Fiber? Hearing The Familiar Song From Above, All In One Accord You Strain Your Bronze Chests And, Hooves Barely Touching The Ground, Turn Into Straight Lines Cleaving The Air, And All Inspired By God It Rushes On!