page 116

they each carry a paper crane in their sleeves.
they harbor a caged bird for me---
a message.

each one of them are different
with a different face---
a different outreaching hand.

only at the end of the road
do they reach below their sleeve
and let the crane see day.

only when they know i have understood
the message that lay beneath
the folds of its feathers,
will they then set it
free.


:::


is love not the sixth sense?

for without it,
how would we discern between
what it is
to what it is not?


:::


there are two options:

you relinquish fear,
so life may show your self-truth---
with the expectation of living it.

you admire fear,
so death may show your self-truth---
with the expiration of living it.

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page 69

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