The one good thing about nightmares is that, eventually, we wake up.

Make your home on sacred soil, and you’ll always belong.

We weave moments into stories to honour our thread.

Poetry is our soul in flight learning how to walk.

A secret is either holy, or it is poison. There is no middle ground.

People that refuse to change become living prisons, not only incarcerating themselves, but anyone who shows them affection, or dissent.

It’s the shadow not the mask that, in the end, does the evil deed.