Often the mind allows many answers to questions, that were never asked, just felt.

The wonder of life is in that which happens everyday. I never find the door closed because there is always a gap. In writing I find that words and images do not always appear the way we intend. Each of us sees things from our own perpective. The engagementsof people and feelings of life, death and pro-creation. The want I have, the need of others, the crying in the street, all impact slightly different. Life has little value to some, if hunger is the only future to find. Death provides comfort in the promise of a better life or even a reward for tasks or deeds completed. People touch people, lending warmth to body and soul by sharing both understanding and imediate need and satisfaction provided by human contact. We are a strange lot, feed the body, cloth the soul, comfort the lonely, move to the next task, never seeing their results.Yet I continue to write words create images and miss many points along the way. I leave a message on the stone, but the message has many voices and finds a thought often on its own. I still write and push forward a point or two, hoping that some good comes from, what is written.