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About the Man Behind the Words. Why do human beings need answers? Partly I suppose because without one the question itself soon sounds silly. For portraits of the wealthy. And members of the aristocracy.

An island stands mountainously,. A back drop for lookers on. A monument to creation itself. The reach lies in wait,. Silent, without disposition or expectation. Distances vary as the lodes. Of the living waters transit. To rivers and streams,. Routes to the sea of commonality. Twins, Kindred, they be,. Of the divine ways they have traveled,. The hapless spawn of intent bringing quieting,. Rioting bluebells in spring, freshening, while.

For Khaula Naxir And Miss Bushra. And I blink, for there is nothing else I understand that I should do. And there I am, flying through the wind, with your hand on my waist, dancing on the sound of the crickets. Rising from the depths of despair. They talk, they show off. They hate, they make fun. I resent, I spit.