Poetry is the thumbprint of our collective soul.

It's through art that the human spirit takes shape.

If only you could see me, you would see the dark whispering in my ear. But the dark is no match for my light born of the fire raging within.

Maybe I'm too damn strange - lost in my dreams and lost seas. A new age hippie listening to the gulls' early morning cry.

I met you in my dreams once, reaching out to touch your hand while the stars kissed my cheek.