from fam to family thats how it went my moms raised me my pops cared for me my grandmother had my back when there was no one to turn to i always had them i didnt know then but now i do i love them and they love me dont underestimate the power of the family because from fam to family thats how it goes and i want the world to know

To-night, God knows what thing shall tide,
The Earth is racked and fain--
Expectant, sleepless, open-eyed;
And we, who from the Earth were made,
Thrill with our Mother's pain.

The snow whispers around me
And my wooden clogs
Leave holes behind me in the snow.
But no one will pass this way
Seeking my footsteps,
And when the temple bell rings again
They will be covered and gone.

Under an undermined and shot-bruised wall
A too-bold captain perish'd by the fall,
Whose brave misfortune happiest men envied,
That had a town for tomb, his bones to hide.

For example, the crack widening in the window of the plane flying over Greenland: crazing is the word used by the safety inspector to describe the mesh of lines spreading from the bullet-sized hole in the plastic through which shine glaciers melting in the sea below—ridge upon white ridge gleaming in the sunlight of an autumn morning, which goes on and on as the plane heads westward. The inspector contracts and releases the muscles in his legs, curling his toes under the seat in front of him, raising and lowering his feet, listening, again, to a partita by Bach.

O what is faith and what is doubt?
Faith is life sun beyond the grave.
Doubt is the battle lost, within, without.
A doubter cries: 'Me, none can save.'

[Excerpt from “My Flute”]

"Faith" is a fine invention
When Gentlemen can see—
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency.

Mirror mirror on the wall
Could you please return our ball
Our football went through your crack
You have two now
Give one back.

Fair or foul, satire or sarcasm, all
I deserve:
Blockade of audition, screening eyes,
As the voice of god tickled
My consciousness!
My Rattandeep (Ghee/burning lamp) sparkled
Even in raging storms

Faint with love, the Lady of the South
Lay in the paradise of Lebanon
Under a heaven of cedar boughs: the drouth
Of love was on her lips; the light was gone
Out of her eyes--