A river is nearly the ultimate symbol for the very essence of change itself. It flows unceasingly from one point of being to another, yet continuously occupies the same bed or pathway, and accommodates life's endings with the same musical grace with which it accommodates life's beginnings, along with all the muted and explosive moments that surface between the two extremes.

A world without poetry and art would be too much like one without birds or flowers: bearable but a lot less enjoyable.

In an age when nations and individuals routinely exchange murder for murder, when the healing grace of authentic spirituality is usurped by the divisive politics of religious organizations, and when broken hearts bleed pain in darkness without the relief of compassion, the voice of an exceptional poet producing exceptional work is not something the world can afford to dismiss.

Where humanity sowed faith, hope, and unity, joy’s garden blossomed.

As goes love so goes life.

Someone had to embrace positive beginnings before anyone could celebrate successful conclusions or continuations.

In a world gushing blood day and night, you never stop mopping up pain.