When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it - always.

mahatma gandhi - early 20th century   Two Poems by Greg Hoover An unending song Apple blossoms, fresh peaches, snow-capped mountains, butterfly wings, the rings embracing Saturn's glory... All these, yes, and more are thy robes, and my voice is your unending song. Praise be to you who lives in me. I am your dwelling place, like my fathers before me. And the limitless sky, strange red-orange sunsets, the moons and stars of an expanding universe... all these am I. Your royal garments, purple robes and sashes, I give myself to you. Hold me tight in exultation, as I return onto you, like a grazing gazelle onto a golden field, a child's smile onto a mother's eyes, a note into an unending song. Quiet expectation Don't go inside... Don't go anywhere. Be bread on the alter, waiting to be transformed. Be grapes on the vine, waiting to burst into wine. Be autumn leaves, as they drift down. Be hickory smoke as it rises. Be honey dripping from a farmer's fingers... Or the cool rain barrel, where his wife washes her hair. Be the rain itself, as she kisses your face, washing you clean of you.