We will all wake up semi-angels, If we wake at all.
I've come to terms with it, it knows I know.
It's nice sometimes to open up the heart a little and let some hurt come in. It proves you're still alive.
No map to help us find the tranquil flat lands, clearings calm, fields without mean fences. Rolling down the other side of life our compass is the sureness of ourselves. Time may make us rugged, ragged round the edges, but know and understand that love is still the safest place to land.
Poetry is fact given over to imagery.
The world needs writers. We will always be necessary. There are few professions that can claim that distinction.