The falling of the sick and wounded, the living dead people, graves open their mouths with groans of dispair, and the living turn their heads away. They had been warned.

The sick feeling was the virus of love grown into a moldy mess. The wish to be someone else and disapear. When the heart is cold and damp a seed germanates.

Paint it bright and then it's better, give it love and even more better. Change the world with brush strokes.

I know this might be hard to take: I will be publishing about the HOLOCAUST till the end of the year. Hope it is medicine, not pain.

She ran up the stairs and fell upon the door which broke to pieces and stood upon the tall hill with blood on her hands looking down upon smaller hills and dafodills.

I believe the hate will mostly end because of how wrong and distasteful it is.

Why is creativity often dark? It is the easiest opening for it. That doesn't make it better. No, it is often second rate work.

The crime against humanity that left a stigma for everyone.

A poet sees a poem as a window which suddenly gets a shaft of light coming at the eyes, and is captured in ink.

The sleek hulls of the American aerospace fleet gleamed beneath the stark, unfiltered light of the orbital staging yards. Far below, the blue marble of Earth turned in silent majesty, a cradle that could no longer contain the restless spirit of its children. For centuries, the line had been held by those willing to look into the great dark and step forward anyway. Now, a new frontier beckoned, cold and unyielding, demanding the same fierce vigilance that had once tamed a wild continent. Commander Vance stood on the command deck of the Vanguard, his eyes fixed on the distant, shimmering telemetry of the outer rim. Beside him, a young lieutenant checked the primary reactor grids, his hands steady despite the immense weight of the mission ahead. "Sir, the Eurasian atmospheric arrays are locking onto our coordinates," the lieutenant reported, his voice cutting through the hum of the bridge. Vance did not flinch, knowing that out here, the balance of global power was no longer measured in borders, but in absolute resolve. "Let them look," Vance replied calmly, his eyes reflecting the distant stars. "They track us because they fear a people who do not ask for permission to explore." Every bolt and bulkhead of the ship had been forged by a nation that refused to accept limits or bow to the safe stagnation of old empires. Through decades of global upheaval, while other regions sought comfort in total state control, America had chosen the dangerous, exhilarating path of freedom. That freedom was not a passive inheritance, but a muscle kept strong by constant, untamed ambition. Suddenly, a brilliant flare of crimson light erupted across the long-range scanners, signaling an unauthorized intercept trajectory from the rogue orbital sector. The alarms did not panic the crew; instead, they ignited a precise, synchronized symphony of practiced discipline. "Defensive shielding to maximum, pack the kinetic batteries," Vance ordered, his voice echoing the steady courage of generations of pioneers. The crew moved with the fluid grace of individuals who chose to be there, bound not by conscription, but by a shared belief in their destiny. Through the viewing port, the dark expanse erupted into a chaotic dance of plasma fire and high-velocity shielding impacts. The Vanguard rode the shockwaves with defiant stability, its thrusters burning bright against the void. On the tracking screens, the adversary’s calculated, robotic formations began to falter against the unpredictable, creative maneuvers of the American pilots. "They fight for a directive, but we fight for the horizon," the lieutenant muttered, a fierce pride lighting up his face as the scanners cleared. With a final, thunderous surge of electromagnetic force, the interceptors broke off, unable to match the relentless stamina of a crew that refused to yield. The path to the deep frontier lay open once more, vast, beautiful, and completely unmapped. Vance looked out at the endless expanse, knowing that the trials of this night were just the beginning of a much greater journey. Across the communication arrays, the secure signal from home base crackled to life, carrying the hopes of millions who still believed in the mythic promise of the republic. It was a reminder that so long as there were frontiers to conquer and freedoms to defend, the home of the brave would never falter. Vance gripped the helm, steering the starship directly into the brilliant, untamed light of the future.