I am a writer; I speak the language of words like no other.
The debt in meanings, of my thoughts, are beyond the world, and
Pass the universal scripts of words.
I seek for it
I feel for it, ¬
which troubles my mind, when they are not being used.
My soul endeavors every drip from the faucet of Paine and Poe
Lord what wonderful uses that have been brought into the making.
The essence of freedom dwells in my power, conducting meaning,
which sometimes is even challenged, throughout my thoughts.
I listen and glut in its faith.
It creates the same feeling from Einstein’s E=MC2.
It’s a BEAUTY!!
GIVE IT AN ENCORE FOR THE MAKING!!
My soul- my poor, poor soul
Please wipe the tears away.
I cannot see language through a kaleidoscope, but can feel the
Presents of nature, and its true meaning of intuition.
My thoughts are genuine.
Tell me what is enough?
In time when people will read and interrupt my thoughts, actions and meanings,
That comes from the heart.
They will lie down my footprints that will walk on until the end of time.
They will do it by remembering me

Blackheath
March 09