WHY I WRITE
Because every door opens onto mystery
And invites the daring to adventure and flight
To taste, finally, that rarest of flavors
At the top of the storm
At the top of the sweet wind.
Because nothing in the past is finally resolved
Because I am sure that promises yet unfulfilled
Will be fulfilled.
That, somewhere, there is satisfaction for this yearning
And though it can never be named, it may be glimpsed
Because I believe that no two men
See the day exactly the same way
And that my vision, no matter how limited
May, nonetheless add to another’s understanding