Words come to you when you fall down and you must hold
them, weave them with your emotions. My poetry is the
fate I decided not to write. Ironically it is here for you to
read. And decide. Whether love is a black hole or comets
that betray. Whether stars really talk to the families of
dead. Whether happiness is looking out of galaxies or
living in your own. Some incidents never leave you, nor
you can leave them. To look on the brighter sides always
brings you inner light to cherish the goods about them.

MAY STARS ALWAYS CONSPIRE THE BEST FOR YOU.