We Owe Thankfulness To God,

Move, But Don't Move The Way Fear Makes You Move.

I Long To Escape The Prison Of My Ego And Lose Myself In You.

Poems Are Rough Notations For The Music We Are.

I Am Part Of The Load Not Rightly Balanced . . .

I Do Not Know Who Lives Here In My Chest, Or Why The Smile Comes. I Am Not Myself, More The Bare Green Knob Of A Rose That Lost Every Leaf And Petal To The Morning Wind.