<p>
After much hand-wringing, the time had come for me to put myself to the test and step out onto the skinny branches. The initial footholds were tentative and shy; but as I grew in confidence, some of the shyness dissipated, to reveal a raging river within of passion and romanticism that I had let unexplored lo these many years. A fallow field produces little, but at the first plowing of the fertile soil, lush gardens flourish, rich in fruit and flower. This is my journey.</p>
<p>
Poetic words are spoken, written, explored and mulled over; they are experienced, and laid out for all to see. Such is the life of the poet, that fearless muse that dares to lay foot on virgin soil, to toil and seed and tend its crop. Here will lie the words that flow from lips and mind to fingertips. Evoke they might response in nerve and sinew - let it be; explore yourself, your mind, the ground upon which you walk. This is for you.</p>
