if i may, where do you live? where do you breathe? whence do i seek?
shall i plunder some far-away lands or, behold the wildflowers sprouting on my roof? shall i aim the telescope at milky way or, melt into my love's mellow eyes?
you see, i was told -- poetry arrives donning pieces of the seeker, pieces long lost, or yet to be found.
HePo -- thanks for the wonderful platform. Yes, it really is a labor of love.