O Pusillanimous Heart, Be Comforted And, Like

Gaze Up At The Stars Knowing That I See The Same Sky And Wish The Same Sweet Dreams.

Folded Eyes See Brighter Colors Than The Open Ever Do.

"there Is No God," The Foolish Saith, But None, "there Is No Sorrow." And Nature Oft The Cry Of Faith In Bitter Need Will Borrow: Eyes Which The Preacher Could Not School, By Wayside Graves Are Raised; And Lips Say, "god Be Pitiful," Who Ne'er Said, "god Be Praised."

Or From Browning Some "pomegranate," Which If Cut Deep Down The Middle Shows A Heart Within Blood-tinctured, Of A Veined Humanity.

I Should Not Dare To Call My Soul My Own.