Whatever The Hell I Am, I Am

We All Have Our Dreams. May We Find Them, And God Have Mercy On Us When We Do.

How Massively The Mountains Stand, While Low To The Ground The Sand Blows. The Sand Blows On And On. And Then There Are No Mountains, None At All, The Sand Has Kissed And Whispered Them Away. And Still, The Sand Blows On.

I Also Love Disney, And Will Defend Doing So, Because There's So Much In Those Films And I Don't Care If It's Stereotyped.

It's Lovely. I Hate It.

Some Writers, Of Course, Simply Write, As They Feel They Are Driven To Do, By Outer/inner Inspirations. If, After The Work Is Written And, Hopefully, Published, Others Respond -- That Is The Champagne. But We, Or Some Of Us, Don't Write For The Champagne. We Write Because We Write.