Reckless of my mortality,Strengthen me to behold a face,To know the spirit of a beloved oneYet to endure, yet to dare!

I have witness the stars brighterthan a poet can create a simpleton world. Shall we write 'until death do us part.

Sublime wonders lie in store,I am shown a regal residence;a mighty kingdom, an empirewith more grandeur than before ...

[Fiction and poetry] are medicines, they're doses, and they heal the rupture that reality makes on the imagination.

A women's heart beat is very rapid; it jumps from love to hate, in seconds when in silence there is surely madness.

An envy of that one consummate partSwept me, who mock. Whether I laugh or weep, Some inner silences are at my heart.

True 'we travel the world over and over to find the authentic-self, we forget that we carry it within. Simply Pause.

Yet, the man never goes slow! Feted against all the odds.How? Nobody knows.Undeterred, unabated, yet uncharted he goes...

The words we construct, the poems we write and the songs we sing, become the love story of a stranger we have never seen.

Why not fall in love with an artist? Otherwise there are no letters, pictures, paintings and songs for you when you wake up.

I started to think about the abyss that separates the poet from the reader and the next thing I knew I was deeply depressed.

hough we travel the whole over to find the perfect match,we must carry it with us a light or it's playing hard to catch.

My demons creep like a pedo in a park full of kids. Each one reminding me of the consequences, what I didn’t do, or did.

We will go far away, to nowhere, to conquer, to fertilize until we become tired. Then we will stop and there will be our home.

The sonnet, a lyrical poem, the beauty and magic... convey with our hearts the truth of the universe in a single moment briefly.