In the night$$$ I wish to speak with the angel to find out if she recognizes my eyes$$$ if she will ask me: do you see Eden? And I'll reply: Eden burns.

Someday you will name me$$$ then gently place those burning holy roses in my hair.

Perhaps then$$$ some day far in the future$$$ you will gradually$$$ without even noticing it$$$ live your way into the answer.

It is not fair to be old$$$ to put on a brown sweater.

She followed slowly$$$ taking a long time$$$<br>As though there were some obstacles in the way;<br>And yet: as though$$$ once it was overcome$$$<br>She would be beyond all walking$$$ and would fly.

She who reconciles the ill-matched threads<br>Of her life$$$ and weaves them gratefully<br>Into a single cloth: It's she who drives the loudmouths from the hall<br>And clears it for a different celebration.

I am circling around God$$$ around the ancient tower$$$ and I have been circling for a thousand years$$$ and I still don't know if I am a falcon$$$ or a storm$$$ or a great song.

This is what the things can teach us: to fall$$$ patiently to trust our heaviness. Even a bird has to do that before he can fly.

Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depth of your heart; confess to yourself you would have to die if you were forbidden to write.

That was my nature - going from temptation after temptation$$$ not to sin$$$ but to be redeemed.