The Ransom of Light

These hours are dangerous, when there is only the light we create to hold back the darkness, and somewhere between passion and madness is found the spark that tames the thunder and captures the wind and with them weaves symphonies, else these hours offer silence and hopes and dreams are allowed to wither and fade,...

but for a breath

there are nights when the silence is deafening and agonizing in its remembrance; echoes of yesterdays unwritten suffocating in the emptiness beg for life in expression one word at a time, and you, in your silence, only ever a breath away....

The Wild

It's wild out there, and dangerous, a wilderness full of peril: the deep and dark woods, the jagged lofty mountains, the sweeping desert wastes, and open, endless plains; it's wild out there, among soaring glass spires standing over a web of asphalt and concrete and light; it's wild out there, in those places were shadows...