And now we step to the rhythm of miracles. --from The Light, That Never Dies

History dressed up in the glow of love’s kiss turned grief into beauty.

September 11, 2001: Citizens of the U.S., besieged by terror’s sting, rose up, weeping glory, as if on eagles’ wings.--from the poem Angel of Remembrance: Candles for September 11, 2001

Poetry looking in the mirror sees art, and art looking in a mirror sings poetry.

Stars wishing upon the potential of humans shine faithfully on.

With its leaves so rich and heavy with elation and its crimson face made brighter with visions of divinity the shadow of a certain rose looks just like an angel eating light.

At the edge of madness you howl diamonds and pearls.