A Weak Human Mercy Walks

It Is Impossible To Communicate To People Who Have Not Experienced It The Undefinable Menace Of Total Rationalism.

You Who Think Of Us: They Lived Only In Delusion... Know That We The People Of The Book, Will Never Die!

What Is This Enigmatic Impulse That Does Not Allow One To Settle Down In The Achieved, The Finished? I Think It Is A Quest For Reality.

The Living Owe It To Those Who No Longer Can Speak To Tell Their Story For Them.

I Am Composed Of Contradictions, Which Is Why Poetry Is A Better Form For Me Than Philosophy