This "I" loves words. I try to write them clearly, and sometimes elegantly, saying too much in very few syllables, but not always. At times, I feel defeated; as is witnessed by the room full of words I have left behind in not saying the thing I wanted most to say.
So too, as I love words, do I love the writers of words. I have shared communion with men who the world has judged great, and with others who are just as great, and in "my" heart, I call them my brothers. But, look past this "self" and perhaps you will see another.
