Poet: Gardener Of Epitaphs.

No One Behind, No One Ahead. The Path The Ancients Cleared Has Closed. And The Other Path, Everyone's Path, Easy And Wide, Goes Nowhere. I Am Alone And Find My Way.

Believing Ourselves To Be Possessors Of Absolute Truth Degrades Us: We Regard Every Person Whose Way Of Thinking Is Different From Ours As A Monster And A Threat And By So Doing Turn Our Own Selves Into Monsters And Threats To Our Fellows.

Poet: Gardener Of Epitaphs.

Solitude Is The Profoundest Fact

With Great Difficulty Advancing By Millimeters Each Year, I Carve A Road Out Of The Rock. For Millenniums My Teeth Have Wasted And My Nails Broken To Get There, To The Other Side, To The Light And The Open Air. And Now That My Hands Bleed And My Teeth Tremble, Unsure In A Cavity Cracked By Thirst And Dust, I Pause And Contemplate My Work. I Have Spent The Second Part Of My Life Breaking The Stones, Drilling The Walls, Smashing The Doors, Removing The Obstacles I Placed Between The Light And Myself In The First Part Of My Life.