Bio

Re: As i came across the empty Space i looked inside a great big vase. The flowers had died, had been replaced, by a hollow void. Now to retrace and try to reclaim some semblance of what once was and must remain. If the flight of a bird is stricken down by a merciless wind. It cannot cry, it will reclaim what is there in the Sky, the freedom of flight, rejection of pain. A feather that sleeps in a breeze cannot feel pain. In deliberate creating, we are like the Planets, that appear to evolve. In an ever expanding symphony, we revolve, and revolve. We can stare at this world until it gives way, and cracks from the pressure of cyclic dismay. The Journey is long, it is shorter each day, but it is inside you'll find the traces of time. That's worth Searching for.