Martas poems:

A song can not celebrate love, for a song is prisoner to its own form and what moves within us when we love is bigger than the heart, and flows endlessly from nowhere to all places small. Love is greater, more sublime than us, yet, being love, it loses nothing of itself in the slight confines of our hearts, of our mind. When we find it... this love I speak of, we can retire to the rapture of its miracle, revel in the harmless all consuming, all giving heat of its passion; We can reach that... Sign in to see full entry.