Las Vegas, the last frontier for sinners, where decadence and lust have met their match. Morality you won't find there,  

Remember when the skies were blue And fear of war was but a phantom feint? But now that feint is phantom no more As undercurrents of the war

A morning walk through autumn leaves The path is clear yet unknown.  It guides me through the branches of the trees  Where sunshine casts

We're in that fortress on a hill The view is rightfully obstructed, And what we see is beautiful and ever so tempting. But we are...

The brook was especially quiet this morning The morning, however, was especially noisy

So, seek my friend, and I shall pray that what you seek for, you shall find.

I grew up with great story tellers. Some of my earliest memories are walking with my grandfather in Chisinau at dusk, while he told me...

It was a lovely sunset on the lake The evening settled on the waters  And grasses tickled our soles We sat in reverence with nature