Maddening sound saturated with fright,
shattering silence of the night...

Laying under a generous mulberry tree
watching the breeze caress each leaf...

Touching pen to paper
Writing these words...

Based on the quote: Wanna fly, you got to give up...
New beginnings...

In response to Shelley's, "Music, When Soft...
Voices quieted, music no longer heard...

Collections of memories, emotions, reflections,
reside in the psyche, "an immaterial part of...

Poets sleep on a cold mountain of longing,
amongst shadows of winter as oceans cry...

Sun is bright, full of white light.
My sight is dim, on a whim and I...

Never have I seen your face nor heard your voice,
they are only images in nightly dreams...

Death nears
another soul...

Fear
Consumes my soul...

Sadness
overwhelming...