The fragrant summers of the Australian bush arose in me the earliest passion for beauty. Purity and love are arts to be courted, and in all these matters I write what I have experienced in the senses and Spirit.
My childhood bedroom, a watercolour lavender, was heady with ambrosial writing spiced by desire. Over many years the bud has unfurled.
It is for those wanting to languish in "still waters" that I write. They will find in the daily rush and bleakness there exists a private boudoir of the mind; where vivid silk and subtle satins defuse our stress, and problems are eaten like fat mangoes.
Brighter than the rosy morning
Or the ev’ning’s tint of gold,
In the inner court with Jesus
Wondrous things my eyes behold.
(Charles E. Orr)