Imprimatur

A poem maketh not the sun to rise,
    Obscureth not the wayward path at dusk—
But pusheth all descried horizons back
    So that our radiant star, when doth it scend,
Revealeth all a bit more nobly wrought
    Than dare we yet to see, or understand.

About Greg Wright

I have worn many hats as a writer and editor over the years. Unlike my scholarly and journalistic work from the "old days" at Hollywood Jesus, Past the Popcorn, or SeaTac Blog, the writing here is of a more overtly personal and spiritual nature. I hope it provokes you as much as it provokes me.
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