We know so little, so little, almost nothing,
and this is only truth, when and from where?
From the fissure of infinity and the unreel of time,
lonely splinters we wander on dreamy travels,
and the truth a flowing shadow and it call us, but the call still is not heard , nor does the caller reveal his face,
and people voicelessly love and die,
because the truth dosen’t speak but dance in the harmony of unity.
A further collection of poems, many from years in the Middle East, but also the California San Francisco and Central Coast areas (Santa Cruz, Carmel, Big Sur, Berkeley, etc.).
This collection of poetry addresses the nature of time, reflections on the natural world, the difficulty of loss,
contemporary social issues and gratitude for life.
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