after years of sharing my observations and notes on life, I have sat down and compiled a novella:

Whispers of the Witness

This isn’t prose; it’s void song. 

It doesn’t tell a story; it unravels the illusion that you are separate from it. 

It’s the sacred hum before the first word was ever spoken, this is not reading, it is remembering.

Letting go of what I know, so that for one moment, brief and unrepeatable, I see things with unclouded eyes: 

you, me, it. 

Will you dare?