Prose pretends to be straightforward in its application to the truth, but truth itself is a dissembler. Poetry, much more honest, knows the deception can't be overcome.

Real life is never quite as interesting as the story told afterward.

Love is the great truth we all know in our hearts and must eventually recognize.

I reserve the right to evolve. What I think and feel today is subject to revision tomorrow.

God made in the image of Man is an imperfect master.

Welcome to the figurative world of poetry where nothing is 'real,' but everything matters.

If God spent 180 million years making dinosaurs, what makes us think Man is so special, a tick of the clock before midnight?