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About To Be Lost Inside Her Name

Night Money

Like a reed, root cut

Never To See A Horizon. Never To Be Carried By A River

Enigma And Luminosity

From Your Solitude, All Paths Flow

“I have become accustomed to the treacheries, to the fear anxiety can bring. I greet each day as does a sailor a fresh wind, a wind in search of

Neverland

“Hundreds of spring flowers, an autumn moon, cool breeze in summer, first fall of snow. With no worried cloud in mind For you, every day is a good day.” -Nan-ch’uan

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© Neil Frederick Sharpe