insights from diaries unkept

...fragments...


Poet, i never was.
an eye for love,
for beauty, makes me no poet.
words do.


what does it take to be true
when a night's sleep could be the end of you?


I'm passionate. About creation.
What sort you ask?
My sort.


Words don't appear in front of you;
words happen like incidents do.


A page unwritten...
...................................
It takes a soul to see the joy.
It takes a heart to smile at the end.