Warren Lane Molton was raised in the deep South during the Great Depression, where whispers of lynchings on Saturday night could still be heard on church steps on Sunday morning. Molton started writing in his teens. He went on to be a clergyman, professor, and psychotherapist, and his journey has been deliberately both outward and inward for perhaps all of his ninety-five years. For decades, Molton has traversed his sense of wonder, his fascination at the ephemeral nature of life, love, loss, anger and anguish, memory and expectation, even as he wandered away from the explicitly religious. Molton's son Stephen says of his father: "Poetry is soul work, as he practices it, a kind of spiritual sonar, taking soundings of the Self as it enters and exits the deep." In 95 at 95, we have a record of a lifelong attempt to connect the immaterial with the material for the betterment of both. "In your own way, at your own pace, you might find some epiphanies here yourself, some new inroads to meaning, discovered on your own terms."
