Category / Poetry
What The Setting Sun Tells
Pour Ton Sourire
Consummation
Love Of A Life
Heritage
Our birth is a question vast beings are asking; Our life is the eloquence of our guileless reply.
For the Good of My Angel
Dionysius the Areopagite in the 4th century pointed to nine distinct choirs of angels, each a level miraculously incomprehensible to the stage of Being just below it. And the guardian angels are only but the ‘lowest’ and closest to the humans of these nine…










