could be revealed . . . the inner you that simmers beneath the surface if stars could sing the virtues that come rushing from your heart if Mother Nature herself could speak with an oceanic mouth of the love that lives within you of the truth that shimmers through you of the sacrifice that you would make for friend and foe alike, then novels would fill the earth books would reach the starry skies words would fill the universe until all space was filled and all wars had ended and time itself had frozen into a single teardrop falling from the fountain where hummingbirds die and angels are born again . . . |