Ego prefers to think it is awake, aware, and awash in truth. It mimics divine rest in chains of servitude, running a religious sweatshop beside the river of good intentions. I do not believe this is who we are, and the words of the 70+ poems herein reflect part of that discovery. I have seen them emerge out of a spiritual struggle with the unfamiliar. Soul-reflection, as a form of solitude, is a lost art in these days of ultra-connectedness, and while I don't bemoan the beauty of the global community and networking that is happening on so many levels, I do think there's a need to step back from it on a regular basis. Words have been my enemies as much as they have been my friends - ego, identity, and frustration still provoke me deeply - they are articulated within these works, but there is also a longing for freedom for all humanity that is central to the profound experience of divine love.