Those who've tried so hard
to sweep him away by brooms...

The awe of wrinkles,
will wither and desiccate...

This scrap of dirt,
this portion of earth...

When you smile
the white gate of Eden opens...

There are ends to the distances
There are ends to all the roads...

I am
as old as...

On and on, forever—
perfection lost...

Parallels are delusion
otherwise, roads were endless...

The reason that we keep on going
is that we are not going anywhere...

The moon,
I...

Thirsty for the truth
he didn't know how parlous is...

Our rages are for our burning.
So...