Never judge or identify an author with his writings, although some homogeneity with ones own creations is involved, they represent a moment frozen in time, a hint that never constitutes the total chaos of a creative soul, that here from heavens, there from hells, and sometimes from the stars harnesses his inspiration. The inspiration lends some understanding and sheds some lights on the crucial keys to unlock the doors to ones own soul , but never opening the portals to the mystery of the human being, and all his complexities, imponderables, and unpredictabilities. A writing person, is indeed merely a catalyst of muses, and though he may be skilled at associating ideas, and putting them into words to a greater or lesser degree, due to the limitation of the words, he would prefer to be silent, unless he might have an urge to hope that some may, indeed, discover these worlds on their own and participate in this Wonder, following some signposts that to some will be mere fantasy, yet to others a way towards comprehension, if not experiential, than at least comforting on whichever path they select for themselves to follow.
Posted on: Mon, 08 Jul 2013 16:06:05 +0000
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