The Tragedy Of This World Is That

No One Ever Expects Poetry To Sell...

The Urge To Discover, To Invent, To Know The Unknown, Seems So Deeply Human That We Cannot Imagine Our History Without It.

Events, Once Happened, Lose Reality, Alter With A Glance, A Storm, A Night. In Time, The Past Never Happened. But Who Could Know? Who Could Know That The Past Is Not As Solid As This Instant.

We Often Do Not See What We Do Not Expect To See.

Such Is The Cost Of Immortality. No Person Is Whole. No Person Is Free. Over Time, Some Have Determined That The Only Way To Live Is To Die. In Death, A Man Or A Woman Is Free Of The Weight Of The Past [and The Future].