There is a center of sublime knowledge
within every human being,
and when you enter that place you turn into a great poet.
you don't have to learn the art of poetry.

by Swami Muktananda

Trees are the kindest things I know,
They do no harm, they simply grow
And spread a shade for sleepy cows,
And gather birds among their bows.

They give us fruit in leaves above,
And wood to make our houses of,
And leaves to burn on Halloween
And in the Spring new buds of green.

They are first when day's begun
To tough the beams of morning sun,
They are the last to hold the light
When evening changes into night.

And when a moon floats on the sky
They hum a drowsy lullaby
Of... read more

who knows if the moon's
a balloon, coming out of a keen city
in the sky-filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should

get into it, if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people

than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into keen
city which nobody's ever visited, where

always
it's
Spring) and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves

by e.e. cummings

Storytelling is the oldest form of education.

On the eve of your birth
word of your coming passed from animal to animal.
The reindeer told the Arctic terns, who told the humpback whales, who told the Pacific salmon, who told the monarch butterflies, who told the green turtles, who told the European eel, who told the busy garden warblers,
and the marvelous news migrated worldwide.
While you waited in darkness, tiny knees curled to chin, the Earth and her creatures with the Sun and Moon all moved in their places, each ready to greet y... read more