Words come to you when you fall down and you must hold them, weave them with your emotions. My poetry is the fate I decided not to write. Ironically it is here for you to read. And decide. Whether love is a black hole or comets that betray. Whether stars really talk to the families of dead. Whether happiness is looking out of galaxies or living in your own. Some incidents never leave you, nor you can leave them. To look on the brighter sides always brings you inner light to cherish the goods about them. MAY STARS ALWAYS CONSPIRE THE BEST FOR YOU.