I want to know the Speed Of Slow;
I want to know To Never Know,
to have no Known Idea.
I want to know the beat that peace makes-
by feet of horses towing Amish buggies.
I want to taste the fruit of labor, ever savoring the flavor-
honest scent that never says nor once implies
that man can fly through time and never
whispers that the times are flying either.
I want to get from creek to peak remembering that every moth
that I walk past is passed by in the sum of beats that leave its wings
while in my presence-
wholly as it should be and only as it could be,Read More »