For you,
I’d bleed roses,
And cry - daffodils,
And even the sweetest tulips,
Could not impel me,
As do you.

This is where the magic happens;
solitude is of utmost integrity.

If I were a dew;
I would be the most travelled.
If I were the grass;
I would be the most still.

I am a hermit, unaware about my surroundings;
knowing all is interconnected within.

I am lost and in that I found myself;
I belong nowhere and in that I became of the universe.

All too soon

Your time is up

If he sees you

Play a merry tune

The piper

Standing there

Around the corner

Take a look

Are you looking?

There's a mystery

Trouble's cooking

Hold your breath

Can you hear that?

It's on it's way

Here come's death.

hey kid, listen — don't
leave the womb, don't open your
eyes — they'll make you cry