photo credits
Judy Meeker

There is beauty in unconditinal love,

it has no knees, but flows like a spring of sweet water

from out of the attitude of a God like nature-

and from out of His spirits comes the perfect art.

While the stupidly wise sit owl like on the dead limbs of

the tree of knowledge and hoot the brave soul is always

found errect.

The snakes of supersition writh, hiss, and slander lends her tongue-

they hate a thinker precisely for the same reason

that a theif hates a sheriff, or that of a killer who despises

a prosecuring witness.

If no human existed to review and to flatter, the sun would shine on,

and storms would still davaste the earth now and then;

violets would spread their velvet bosoms to the sun,

daisies would grow, birds would fill the air with

sweet song, grass grow, waters run, and everything would be as

though the world was filled with happy homes, just as

the art of a borning poet will surive for

generations to come...