Winter passed & so will spring.It’s a solitary thing;Watching seasons go on by.Knowing — one day you will die;Such a dreary thought to think! Made for Love and worshipping,Spring was always true and new,singing songs known by a few.It wore the shrine of the divine,Bearing love, out of Goodbyes,Kissing answers to all whys,For what winter

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Arise, Arise O’ morning wind;and speak of rain, of abject painof searing stars — of godly wars,and all the wicked men who sinned,and blow the sons of Man and God,and all who dare transcend my blood,and fill my cage, and feel my rage,and tell me — one more time — I’m God. Arise, Arise, unsheath your

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