I write passion for it spills upon these sheets with no apology and openly accepts love as an art form from years passed. Building life’s blocks with one single thought transformed into an action worth telling a tale that will shed light on a dim future and so I write. If not for myself, let it be the words that carry my children off and give them examples of possibilities endless.

If not for my first born who resembles my structure from bend to bold, let it be for my unborn seed who has yet to taste the victory of another challenge tamed by such a beast within and so I write. Not to confuse those who stand a chance at understanding my pattern but to give hope a chance, maybe even push resistance aside just to entertain amusement or at least contain a muse for that moment.

I am so lost in it, this thing called time has me mummified. Warped images that I must decode with no tools to do such a job, though I work extremely hard at it. An addict to triumph, though I have been abducted by TRYING without a second of discouragement. Upon broken wings, all of the time this world has to offer is never propelled my way, so I adjust the clock just to give back what is owed without a penny for my thoughts to spare.

You see FOR THE MOMENT down to my last, I still offer up the very BEST of me!