But maybe it's up in the hills under the leaves or in a ditch somewhere. Maybe it's never found. But what you find, whatever you find, is always only part of the missing, and writing is the way the poet finds out what it is he found.
“The work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives and the dreams shall never die.”
“I'm not interested in age. People who tell me their age are silly. You're as old as you feel.”