poetic words

God must be one of those delicious dreamy aromas that float into the soul on the warm hopeful days of spring...a smell that beguiles and inebriates the mind, which, like a fine drunken horse of water, the heart rides, galloping wild like a river of possibility, right through the topsoil of your youth, cutting and eroding a groove that will be your life, a canyon sunk deep into the virgin plains and unsawn forests of your early days.

-Martin Prechtel, Long Life, Honey in the Heart