The sun with her
came out to play
but shy night
could not stand his light
and ran quite away.
SUN ARRAYS HIMSELF
Over the lip of the earth
broke into night the sun.
A little cloud
.. a baby herald
ran and told everyone.
Each little cloud soon
caught the sun.
Each little cloud stopped
Babe Ruth's home run.
(to MBC)
HIMSELF ARRAYS
Himself sun arrays
in His own rays
and as He arises
and all birds He arouses
His rays are of
pink and purple and rose.
(to MBC )
I wish that every one understood this to make the best use of our lives. Are we idealists or realists? As far as my inner voice speaks I feel we are realists to the core. The warmongers live in their 'make believe. power of violence.'
Wish they could change themselves.