TOWERS AND TOADSTOOLS Threshed inside the rushes Pressed together, sold Buried in the brier patch Tangled, towering, old Flowers against...

I just listen to the wind These old and tired branches Calling through the trees A whispering in my bones I call that quiet cold my home...

Why do we continue fighting? Life seems to want to find a way, to preserve itself, to keep us going even when we feel like giving up. Is...