I started writing this collection of poems about a year ago. Today is the twenty-second of December 2012. First I was interested in narrating the Gospel in fiction. Somehow the truth is tied to every word from God. So it came to the point of losing reasoning. Shakespeare was a poet, and so was Mozart. The craft is the author's tools. God allows him to inherit his fruits. Very often composure is gifted. Trees seldom grow twisted. Read with reasoning and don't forget understanding. The gift of love is eternal. Love is turned on and is exposed through true light. My prayer is that those who explore these poems learn to dissolve all the compounds and surround them. The mystery of Jesus is grace. These are all found in this very human race.

I started writing this collection of poems about a year ago. Today is the twenty-second of December 2012. First I was interested in narrating the Gospel in fiction. Somehow the truth is tied to every word from God. So it came to the point of losing reasoning. Shakespeare was a poet, and so was Mozart. The craft is the author's tools. God allows him to inherit his fruits. Very often composure is gifted. Trees seldom grow twisted. Read with reasoning and don't forget understanding. The gift of love is eternal. Love is turned on and is exposed through true light. My prayer is that those who explore these poems learn to dissolve all the compounds and surround them. The mystery of Jesus is grace. These are all found in this very human race.