I Lived Rough, By My

Painters Ought To Be Mute. Speech Is The Enemy Of Expression.

An Inner Darkness Is Darker Than An Outer Darkness.

The Earliest Storytellers Were Magi, Seers, Bards, Griots, Shamans. They Were, It Would Seem, Old As Time, And As Terrifying To Gaze Upon As The Mysteries With Which They Wrestled .. (they) Helped The Community Live Though One More Darkness, With Eyes Wide Open, And With Hearts Set Alight.

This Earth That We Live On Is Full Of Stories In The Same Way That, For A Fish, The Ocean Is Full Of Ocean. Some People Say When We Are Born We're Born Into Stories. I Say We're Also Born From Stories.

We Plan Our Lives According To A Dream That Came To Us In Our Childhood, And We Find That Life Alters Our Plans. And Yet, At The End, From A Rare Height, We Also See That Our Dream Was Our Fate. It's Just That Providence Had Other Ideas As To How We Would Get There. Destiny Plans A Different Route, Or Turns The Dream Around, As If It Were A Riddle, And Fulfills The Dream In Ways We Couldn't Have Expected.