31/F/Virginia    I walked into the light, only to find it was darker than my nightmares. I found the golden city; it had been black all along.

i always see an oasis -Indian writer

England    Walk with me pilgrim/ Together, in the Springtime/ We will write haiku............

I hate poetry. Poets are selfish. Read "Hands that want to..." first. The order is irrelevant otherwise.