I’m on the edge of existence, looking out at nothing, the substantial, rich, eclectic nothing of which all reality is woven.

Don’t teach me things I cannot do, and make me follow after you to dreams I’m not accustomed to

I love sentences you can’t read out loud in one breath

The winds of time push us around; we live to love.

Dreams are our futures sharing with our pasts, and we their interpreters, frustrating the first and misunderstanding the latter.