At the edge of madness you howl diamonds and pearls.
All the world loves a ghost. The evidence of that simple statement can be found by looking in nearly every direction.
Beauty from another world gave birth to your voice-- sent to rescue scorned hearts from traumatized nights.
In your hands winter is a book with cloud pages that snow pearls of love.
That good gardener, who wept thorns plowing his fields - harvests grace with joy.
Art gives its vision to beauty not always recognized. And it surrenders freely -- whatever power it possesses to every sincere soul that seeks it. But above all else--it presents us with the gift of ourselves.