I write about the scariest monsters: The ones inside us all. And the ones that want to eat what is inside us all.

Death was a living creature. Death was a man tormented by his past. Death was once a human.

When we live with Integrity every word, thought and action springs from the Intelligence of the Heart and flows in harmony, enlightened by the pure light of Consciousness.

And perhaps there is none, no morrow anymore, for one who has waited so long for it in vain. And perhaps he has come to that stage of his instant when to live is to wander the last of the living in the depths of an instant without bounds, where the light never changes and the wrecks all look alike. Bluer scarcely than white of egg the eyes stare into the space before them, namely the fullness of the great deep and unchanging calm. But at long intervals they close, with the gentle suddenness of flesh that tightens, often without anger, and closes on itself.

If it's to be, it's up to me.to which I add;If not now...then when?

You see a wile, you thwart. Am I right?