“The memory of a child’s death is the most haunting apparition a parent could ever face.” -M

“Exchanging potency of a response for wise decisions to achieve a desired outcome is never an effective course.” -M

“A business isn’t a business until it’s a brand.” -M

Hate is the weapon of the chaotic force. It is always directed towards a generality to avoid reasoning. Reasoning and logic dictates that there is nearly and endless combinations to the complex nature

The sky near evaporated into a rushing state of heinous nuances. Gone by are conditions protected by ethereal instillations. The fears disintegrate into the crushing weight of grievous consequences. All

“A society that refuses to share in the burden of sacrifice to resolve conflict will never share in the relief of generosity the evolves into peace.” -M

In amongst the hills I visited the gravestone of my ancestor. It read, ‘Here lies, for absence of truth denied is such that here lies.’ Thus the fall of leaves leave the fall, for winter comes.
 The light

“Poverty is the precursor to war because desperation enhances the reality of illusionary enemies. Hence the need for the populace to suffer and demand change before they are given the common enemy.” -M

“Politics is where the high seated animals bridle the peasants so that the rich nobles ride in luxury.” -M

The colorful sunrise has failed to rise. We are now scavengers in the ruins of decay. Our might is frail and our youth scout the slums for food while under threat. All is grey except for the glint of idols

“Perspective is a term relative to the presiding state of confusion. That which exists in truth sees without perspective.” -M

A lonely road

Tenderness aching for comfort in the swirling winds of missing words. The unshared soul is saturated with shared kisses yet is parched from kissing it all good bye. A wish for more while becoming less

The treasuries of earth in its multitude of substances count not equal to it. The angles of angelic color of stones that speckle the upper crust. The slow pulse of yellow veins spanning generations. The

“The lore of heroics is written in the souls of survivors.” -M

We are breathless in void, in consequence of the subsequent vacuum when love left. Two glass portraits of silence reflect the solitary conversation of what was with what will never be. Even as a lost feather

“Time makes it so that it’s not about letting go, but grasping something new.” -M

“A broken future will only spill empty memories
.” -M

“The death that slays hope also slays the fear of death.” -M

“Death sings the song we all know the chorus to.” -M