Nation-building is never a 'done deal' confined to history already established.

As goes love so goes life.

Souls reconstructed with faith transform agony into peace.

With my ninth mind I resurrect my first and dance slow to the music of my soul made new.

The thorn is a bridge spanning the muddy depths of agony and sorrow so that one may on the other side dance to the drums of the rose of joy.

The act of writing itself is much like the construction of a mirror made of words. Looking at certain illuminated corners of or cracks within the mirror, the author can see fragments of an objective reality that comprise the physical universe, social communities, political dynamics, and other facets of human existence. Looking in certain other corners of the same mirror, he or she may experience glimpses of a True Self sheltered deftly behind a mask of public proprieties.

You were born a child of light’s wonderful secret— you return to the beauty you have always been.