Silent Sunday is not for the silent ones; those who rely on Sunday worship to think of God. If they can’t hear about him on that day, when can they? What about the rest of the week? Is ...

Winning Full steam ahead A steady locomotion No looking back A glorious contagion

Outside boy living in his chosen r… swirling with the madness in his h… listening to the commanding voices… and the music of the demon playing The Aberation of the Gods of Baa…

Euphonic winds carrying sweet soun… from ambrosial gardens and a sunri… hymns of the heavens come down to… on velvety shoots and diamond’s wo… blowing in my ear as the summer wi…

Amazing thou so art with thy assur… thy words of mercy written upon yo… thy enemy that I am surrenders to… Your pentrating eyes captured me b… My road ahead is paved with thy cr…

Galleries aloft in the majestic sk… fire strewing through the perforat… doves spreading their colossal win… shooting fireballs from their elec… strafing artillery from the hallow…

Silent song, the air with no obstr… nothing to bend it, to shape it, t… to color it, to make it sing, a river without a bank, without a… a story without a plot, a poem wit…

Flamenco Fury Waltzing, but not waltzing Feeling gay, but not smiling Dancing, but not floating Free, but not loose

Where is Santa’s calendar? Blown away by the stormy air? Is it December or is it July? Should he look up in the sky? Or just play it by ear,

Way up above the earth, up above the crow’s nest, further up through the clouds, beyond where the eyes can see, where the skies brush up against

What I am is what I am, What is hidden in my soul, What was there and always there, How my denials were rejected, Why non-believers come to believe,

The boss, the vigilant one, The one who converts Minutes into seconds, Who is adept at calculus, Who see the whole picture,