Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Willaim Shakespeare
Nya-Weh I walk softly over the new moss floor in a thicket of birch my footsteps create a steady rhythm the trees sway to my beat the wind sings and comforts me a bird calls out I look up and see my brother and his family as i offer my thanks gently on the ground the wings of a thousand hawks carry the rhythm I started Donna Jonathan
single instant wedge itself between them,
It grows.
It becomes a month, a year, a century.
It becomes too late.