Lees of the Liminal

These pages do not claim revelation. They offer resonance. Readers are invited not simply to observe but to inhabit—to walk through shadowed corridors, to feel the warmth and wound of blood, to question identity, to glimpse the fragile promise of immortality in the trembling of a line. These poems were not written for applause. They were written because something within insisted upon articulation. For decades they remained close to the self, like sealed letters never posted. Their publication now is not an act of exhibition, but of trust—a gesture toward the reader as confidant.