Time (again, Time) like the soul, wears many faces, many bodies and climates and attitudes. The past is one face, the present a second and the future yet another.

Our greatest power as nations and individuals is not the ability to employ assault weapons, suicide bombers, and drones to destroy each other. The greater more creative powers with which we may arm ourselves are grace and compassion sufficient enough to love and save each other.

In my head this cruel unspeakable truth: that we battled and we cursed and we spilled each other’s blood, we relished our taste of hell and strangled heaven’s love.

Stars ink your fingerswith a lexicon of flameblazing rare knowledge.

What is this slow blue dream of living, and this fevered death by dreaming?

The same hot lightning that burns your blood with passion–– cools your fears with peace.