We are not a poem or a song, we are an opera, all melody and tragedy, intermittent trills of joy
We are not a book that tells a story, we are volumes through which each book reveals the story changing…
We are not one person, we are a part of the bigger whole, we are more than one expression, and even those with the strongest of convictions can feel differently some days
We are in flux and fascination
We are animal and spiritual
We are made of hearts that can break, and wills that will not
We are the stuff that stars are made of
So we walk clumsily upon the earth.