The true poem rests between the words.

What appears to us solid is ultimately both a particle and a wavelength, and on that realm everything behaves as both a particle and a wave.

Remembrance of our kiss brings not your lips nor mine to mind. The flesh can only envy consumption so divine.

The illusion is we are only physical.

You never read about the real pain. It lives where no word can travel.

My primary motivation for writing is to communicate my perceptions and insights into the human condition, in a way that may provide understanding, comfort, and company to others.

Everything solid was first an idea.