Those on the way are almost invisible to those who are not. A man or a woman recognizes God and starts out. The others say he, or she, is losing faith. I want a poet who cannot leave the Friend. If he could, and still be always in love, he would be a master, or he couldn’t. Give us poets like that. The sun is love. The lover, a speck circling the sun. A Spring wind moves to dance any branch that isn’t dead. Don’t let your throat tighten with fear. Take sips of breath all day and night. Before death closes your mouth.