From the depths of the heart
The mouth speaks
Says the Holy Book
From the tunnel of the Impulzez
Thy fingers scribbles
Says Me
Spurn the wheel and the thread knits
As the niddle picks and the fingers oversees
Hard ground kills all seeds
Hard ground; the sower's serial killer
Hard Heart; the lover's impulse killer
A touch, a word, a thought, a scent
A hug, a smile, a Hi, a cry, a tear
I may scribble a billion words
Which may not tender your sores
I may love a billion times
It still may not tender your woes
Its all in your heart
What you call it
Is What it becomes
I call it Love