I Love All The Things There Are,

I Want To See The Thirst Inside The Syllables I Want To Touch The Fire In The Sound: I Want To Feel The Darkness Of The Cry. I Want Words As Rough As Virgin Rocks.” - Verb.

It Is Not So Much Light That Falls Over The World Extended By Your Body Its Suffocating Snow, As Brightness, Pouring Itself Out Of You, As If You Were Burning Inside. Under Your Skin The Moon Is Alive.

Without Doubt I Praise The Wild Excellence.

O Happy Childhood! Blessed Youth! But Once We Know Thy Potent Power; But Once We Live All Careless Free; No Cross To Mar Our Love-lit Bower.

Donde Termina El Arco Iris, En Tu Alma O En El Horizonte? Where Does The Rainbow End, In Your Soul Or On The Horizon?