It's true, I was afflicted with work, I assure you it obscured the heart. I had become a mere ghost.
Mere Ghost
Typewriter
All that trial and work is a religious act, money isn't why you sit at the typewriter.
Utter Peace
We keep marveling at the utter peace at hand as we left the rush and the emotional turmoil of work.
I Rushed
I rushed I couldn't sleep it was home, and work again. The passage of time itself had left my life. It had never occurred to me - it was too late.
