I write for pages, get lost in the mezzaninehidden from stages.

Who is so fancy, esoterica saves the day?Who is the Yogi, Namaste?

I wonder what became of you, your JohnnyRotten skin, no Emerald City eyes.You'd have been a beauty if you let inferiority steam your glasses with its candor, sans laughter.

There’s a pressure at all hours of the day only a poem can assuage.

You think it’s a game?Unintelligible? Ha!Envision no spoons.This is serious.It is a matter of joyversus emptiness.

...we’re not even really hiking, more like meandering in cinematic light.

He may take long walksin the raining darkalmost aimlesslyto a spot of soaked grassin a neighbor’s open field.He’s decided this is the placefor you and him to meet again.

Time’s relativity is considered and abandoned, for the more revelatory experiences of starlightin strands, and pearly floors that span as far as absolute compassion...

...you hold a poemthat functions half as personalnote and half as telescopeto the heightsawaiting us all.

Would it be enough to rock on a stormless sea with each our separate memories tuned to the state of the sinking sun?

Even the bees I'd swear were sent to protect us in the delicate business of hives and honey are stung to silence by the news that something winged has lost its flight.

A person who does not do anything for the fulfilment of his goal and mission on earth is a “living dead

Rust through washing never became white.

The idea of recognising your strengths and using them in as versatile a way as you can is cool to me.

Mankind has probably done more damage to the Earth in the 20th century than in all of previous human history.

Bare hands grip success better than kid gloves.

It does not at first appear that an astronomer rapt in abstraction, while he gazes on a star, must feel more exquisite delight than a farmer who is conducting his team.

Power is the ability to afford not to learn.

Write it down. Written goals have a way of transforming wishes into wants; cant's into cans; dreams into plans; and plans into reality. Don't just think it - ink it!

Every sport has its own cast of characters.

Gehrig was not like the common folk; Created, was he, like the strongest oak.