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“If you are a sunset, my love, then I am the silent, cloud- blanketed night that comes after. Darkness always chases after light, but neither light nor dark are inherently good or evil, despite the stigma. Nights are for the insomniacs and the dreamers and the broken and the lost. We find comfort in silence and the company of few. Night is full of galaxies and stars and longing. How can it ever be considered evil?”

~ On Poets and Writers and Painters and Love

“He is a contradiction, extraordinarily extreme.

Ghosts and fire and oceans and universes warring in his tortured gaze

He is an author, an artist, a little clip-winged bird with a coiled dragon in his heart.

A thief.

He steals- hearts, things, his very human darling jewels- and then steals away into the night.

A romantic who falls victim to romanticizing, a soul oceans deep.

He is still so very much human.

No saint, no demon. No angel, no devil. No god, no monster.

Unbearably, irrevocably human.”

~ On Poets and Writers and Painters and Love

stars.

we are forever surrounded by spiraling stars.

we float alone on lakes of inky blackness,

overarching skies dark.

But everywhere-

stars.

they drift like fireflies,

spreading in every direction,

tiny pinpricks of light in the dark.

all is quiet.

peaceful.

calm.

the serenity you would only think to find in Death.

there are no voices here.

no hissing, no anguish, no pain, no regret.

only the solace of the stars.

~ Echoes

“You will crash and shatter and drown and burn, but you will always and forever be enough.”

~ On Poets and Writers and Painters and Love

“I will not tell you what you were to me. 

You knew. You know.                                                                                            

I guess I should end this with something familiar but changed, like the person I have become. 

A resolve.                                                                                               

Something that if I tell myself enough, it will happen, because it must. 

Je t’aimais plus que toutes les étoiles, mais Je ne me permettrai pas le plus longtemps.”

~ Epilogue

“What a wonder it would be, if humans could have music beamed directly to our souls. Perhaps then I could always feel as if I am being floated away by the high cry of the violin, or the gentle chords of the piano, or soothing voices as high as the sky or low as caverns under miles of stone, or the voices that are anywhere in between.”

~ Thoughts of an Insomniac Running Out of Time