Sometimes I think love is everything to me-- In fact, am convinced love is everything upon reviewing my final punctuations: Not a poem I read and enjoy left without the comment: Love it! Nor blazing sunset flowery air that seems to me not twice as fair for the breathing in and out...Brahma either shares or is royally jealous of me, I suspect, on a daily basis; even the God’s of war, at times must totally deplore my painting over their evil portraits with winter’s clean prime and springs colorful healing….Love more than a feeling-- everything to me.