Life Is a Doorway, and Not a Destination

A poet cannot be frugal, miserly with his thoughts and feeling; but, indeed, a rabid spendthrift, where there are matters of the heart – a radiating sun when his soul uncovered... though we are beings of vast contrast, Light when Write, painfully dark when venturing into silent shadows – those aching lulls when muted – the thunder when speaking with God-like temperament, pianissimos, fortified by deep breaths of character possessing blazing conviction – a poet, atypical in his world as the priest who bravely ventures outside his scriptures, having realized faith a doorway and not a cloistered prison....