'Whence a poem dies is conceived a phoenix.'
At the uttermost reaches of what's known is a glimpse of what's beyond.
Somewhere beyond suburbia is our forgotten self.
Nothing is as sweet to the lips than the ashes strewn from the phoenix rising.
memory is a child seen and waiting to be heard
Opportunity is seen not found. It is a matter of how we see things and our interpretation of situations arising.
It is best practise to not be forgotten.
In the end of it all there are only two kinds of people, those that do and those that choose not to.
Hope can be us, grown and stronger, on the other side of adversity.
Some thoughts peddle better than others