Foreword

And what does it mean to be so sure of yourself
That the afternoon light from a window
Cannot illuminate you, that the writing
On the wall does not challenge your countenance?

From one human to another, let me assure you
That you too will know humility,
When the crowds vanish and you are left to prove
Once again that you are alive between two bookends.

Time shelves all words, healing all wounds
But in those forgotten corridors of covers
In tomes that make a maze of memory,
One more book on the shelf never stands by itself.