We were born to die and we die to live. As seedlings of God, we barely blossom on earth; we fully flower in heaven.

The greatest achievement was at first and for a time a dream. The oak sleeps in the acorn, the bird waits in the egg, and in the highest vision of the soul a waking angel stirs. Dreams are the seedlings of realities.

Every poem is a coat of arms. It must be deciphered. How much blood, how many tears in exchange for these axes, these muzzles, these unicorns, these torches, these towers, these martlets, these seedlings of stars and these fields of blue!

We were born to die and we die to live. As seedlings of God we barely blossom on earth we fully flower in heaven.

The greatest achievement was at first and for a time a dream. The oak sleeps in the acorn the bird waits in the egg and in the highest vision of the soul a waking angel stirs. Dreams are the seedlings of realities.