Poety comes late just like true art. Poetry written in haste is like talking for talking sake. It does not make any sense, neither does it add to the beauty of life. Beauty lies in silence and so does true love
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Timothy Brace
Timothy was a little boy when he wrote his first poem. His lines were apt for a child but not quite appropriate for a gorwn up world. Soon he realized that poetry is nothing but pain. The first song ever sung must have been sung when in great pain. Unexpecedly the pain in his life grew to uncontrollable limits and giving up was the gerneral verdict. But he cariried on like a lost sailor who has heard the waves in mid sea in complete darkness, all by himself amd even his shaoow is a black patch of unsetllted water.
