The World Is Not Made Of Molecules,

Outrage And Possibility Are In All The Poems We Know.

Breathe-in Experience, Breathe-out Poetry.

Dreams Are The Sources Of Action, The Meeting And The End, A Resting Place Among The Flight Of Things.

I Speak To You. You Speak To Me. Is That Fragile?

Slowly I Would Get To Pen And Paper, Make My Poems For Others Unseen And Unborn. In The Day I Would Be Reminded Of Those Men And Women, Brave, Setting Up Signals Across Vast Distances, Considering A Nameless Way Of Living, Of Almost Unimagined Values.