I was "without prior consent, conceived, born, raised and condemned to live in the shadows of Asperger's syndrome, a form of ASD, Autism Spectrum Disorder". Confined by my brain structure to an existence of peculiar and difficult, cognitive, and social patterns, I have experienced first-hand "the reality of Asperger's Autism, which in the aftermath of destruction following WW1 and WW2, and the never healing wounds left by the Holocaust, has ruined the lives of my (great-) grandparents, parents, sibling, and now those of our own, autistic families". I do not know what my life, my cognitive and creative patterns would have been if at all, without having Asperger’s Syndrome, or the other Neurodevelopmental Disorders, dyslexia, dyspraxia, dyscalculia, and God knows what else. Yes, these may have “gifted” me with an extreme, analytical, mathematical mind crippled nevertheless, to the point of being unable to use a map, to engage in a non-topical-interest conversation, to recognize and differentiate by association, larger-size coins with their lower value, or memorise more than two words when trying to copy a text.How fond one could be of college memories of mathematics lecturers, calling me “a stupid idiot” in front of the entire class, because of my inability to “see/understand” algebra, trigonometry, geometry, etc ...?Yet the same intellect has discovered at around 12 years of age, that I am much more easily capable of writing a lengthy, metric and rhyme poem about a given theme instead of the expected narrative, an intricate, peculiar choreography of thoughts, a ballet of words, on a canvas painted by musical touches and an introvert pessimism.I encounter each and every poem ushered into my soul by delicate, ethereal and unseen hands, nurturing and raising them, accompanying them onto pages of old-fashioned paper, by old fashion black, or royal-blue ink fountain pens.Not counting the hordes of aggressors, molesters, sadists, rapists, abusers, exploiters, traitors, betrayers, and other sewer dwellers, also the biological father I wish to have never had, there is really no one else I could acknowledge for the birth of this first volume of poems but myself, and a transcendent being onto which I was attached on the day I was born, with whom I have to live an existence of undivorced separations and intimate reunions, for being bound by responsibility and honour, to the amazing woman and the children given unto us, by a God of questionable existence.Yet as a token for the improbable existence of miracles, after decades of abused suffering, of PTSD and Mental Health turmoil, I have found my raison d'être in "my autistic wife, and our four, uniquely amazing, autistic children, desperately trying to find some light at the end of this tunnel called existence, hoping that it is not again, just another incoming train, with its load of pain, suffering and destruction".(Rev.) Romulus C Kulik LTh.(Hons), FdScMH(Forensic), CertEd-QTS, HLA-H(AP),PgCert Special Psychopedagogy, PgCert Autism & Asperger’sPgCert Religion, Spirituality & Mental Health,Forensic Psychosocial Engagement Practitionerםשה ךו רבRead more about this authorRead less about this author