It’s the complexity that haunts me each night—those sedated nights beside the scent of Mary. But her aroma and the royal curtains have me...

Bed sheets are turning blue and crayons are becoming duller. The roof under which you slept has started betraying you beside the new dawn...

Every believer has it rhyming each day—of truth that will never be and songs that are just too beautiful to be true. Someone once said...