Your home is the universe.
The sky is its eternal roof.
The earth is its soft floor.
A flat rock is your only bed.
The night wind is your blanket.
An outer space palace is your dream.
A river bank is your priceless bathroom.
The moon is the only lover you possess.
A loaf of bread is what you must eat.
A drop of river water is your drink.
The hands of God are your guides.
The moonlight is your sole torch.
The stars in the sky are your fellows.
Night frogs are your free musicians.
Birds are your faithful gifted poets.
Roosters are your free alarm clocks.
And a prison is never your dream.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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Ron