For Every Language That Becomes Extinct, An

A Flower Without A Stem, Is Beauty Waiting To Die. A Heart Without Love, Is A Tear Waiting To Cry.

If Each Of My Words Were A Drop Of Water, You Would See Through Them And Glimpse What I Feel: Gratitude, Acknowledgement.

Deserve Your Dream.

The Purpose Of Poetry Is To Restore To Mankind The Possibility To Wonder.

Beyond Myself, Somewhere, I Wait For My Arrival.