The Truth Is The Light And The

The Clock Ticked With Empty Urgency, As Though Trying To Catch Up With The Time. In The Street A Siren Howled.

Meaning Grows In The Mind, But The Shape And Form Of The Act Remains.

Life Is To Be Lived, Not Controlled, And Humanity Is Won By Continuing To Play In Face Of Certain Defeat.

If Social Protest Is Antithetical To Art, What Then Shall We Make Of Goya, Dickens, And Twain?

And While The Ice Was Melting To Form A Flood In Which I Threatened To Drown I Awoke One Afternoon To Find That My First Northern Winter Had Set.