Come out, come out, wherever you are. I know you’re in here. You dirty little secret.

There’s a voice deep inside getting stronger every day. I cannot deny the message these urgent words proclaim. Why bother?

Hello, can you see me here? Please, might you stop awhile. I am the one you pass by daily as you hurry homeward bound. I am that one who’s least of us.

My father has come to dinner; He does not knock. He is not welcome. He is dead. Yet he insists on joining me

Within this pilgrim’s soul exists a hungry beggar waif, who can never afford a moment of indifference or distraction. Alert to every aching nuance

These words are crude utensils, with which to touch you, and be touched;

I saw him for the first time ever; the one who stole my soul away. He appeared in a dream. I had never seem him before, yet no doubt it was him.

Time wears away at me, like water on a stone, oh, so slowly, but inevitably, drop by drop,

These words I cry do not come easily; as if they echo from the cold stone depths of a long forgotten tomb.

These words, gently laid upon this page, amount to my sincere prayer they reach within you, and touch your secret self,

I am here now. I have removed my outer garments, placed my trust within your circle… I have come because you promised. You told me you would be here