Those clouds of life, how they gather near,
Carrying whispers of joy and fear.
Billowing dreams in the vast unknown,
Soft as a sigh, or sharp as a stone.

In silver hues, they cradle the sun,
A promise of light when the shadows run.
Yet in their grey, a storm may brew,
A tempest fierce, or a gentle dew.

They drift on winds both wild and still,
Over valleys deep and the steadfast hill.
Some bring sorrow, a heavy rain,
A torrent of tears, a season of pain.

But others weave in the azure sky,
Shaped like laughter, as they float by.
They are the canvas of hope's embrace,
Each streak of gold a radiant trace.

For clouds, though fleeting, paint the way,
A mirror of night, a herald of day.
They speak of change, of paths untread,
Of dreams unspoken, of words unsaid.

Those clouds of life, with their shifting form,
Teach us to dance through the fiercest storm.
To see in darkness the light concealed,
And in each drop, the strength revealed.

When life grows heavy and skies turn dark,
Look to the clouds for a fleeting spark.
For even in thunder, their beauty remains,
In cascading hues or the softest strains.

Those clouds of life, so vast, so wide,
Are the journeys we take, the tears we've cried.
Yet in their dance, there lies a truth,
Each shadowed sky renews our youth.

So let them gather, let them soar,
For the clouds of life are forevermore.

Tender thread that binds the heart so tight,
Yet loosens in the quiet of the night.
A trembling breath, a raw, unguarded gaze,
Where shadows dance in vulnerability's haze.

To feel exposed, as if the world lays bare
The fragile chords of all you hold with care.
No armour shields, no walls to hide behind,
Just fleeting whispers of a soul confined.

Yet, in this trembling state of soft despair,
A beauty blooms, unmatched, beyond compare.
For vulnerability, a sacred art,
Is where the truth resides within the heart.

It is the crack that lets the light seep in,
A gentle call to shed the faceless skin.
To stand unmasked, though shaken to the core,
And offer up the wounds that we deplore.

The strength it takes to let the world behold,
The fragile lines within your story told.
Is bravery in its most tender form,
A quiet storm within the raging storm.

For when the tears fall freely, unrestrained,
And fears no longer fight to be contained.
A space is carved where healing dares to grow,
A fertile ground where love begins to flow.

Oh, vulnerability, thy paradox,
A fragile strength that no chain ever locks.
To feel so open is to feel alive,
For in that softness, spirits learn to thrive.

So fear not, heart, the moments you feel weak,
For in that trembling lies the truth you seek.
Let courage rise through cracks and shadows deep,
And in your openness, your soul shall leap.

Awake, dear soul, as the dawn softly calls,
Through the veil of the night, the light gently falls.
With whispers of purpose, the morning begins,
A sacred refrain from the depths within.

"I matter," you murmur, and the world leans to hear,
Your essence, a symphony, vibrant and clear.
In the arms of self-love, your heart finds its grace,
A radiant glow time cannot erase.

"I am worthy," the mantra, a steadfast decree,
An echo of truth in eternity's sea.
Your value, unshaken, stands tall as the sun,
A luminous thread in the weave just begun.

"I have a great purpose," the universe hums,
A celestial promise of what’s yet to come.
Through beauty and abundance, you brightly shine,
A beacon of hope, both earthly and divine.

"I have a gift," you proclaim with pure might,
A treasure that dazzles in the soft morning light.
Your joy is your birthright, your spirit set free,
"I deserve to be happy," a bold, sacred plea.

With wisdom and courage, your journey unfolds,
"I am wise, I am learning," your story retold.
Intelligent thoughts, like rivers, take flight,
Guiding your path through shadow to light.

"I am healing," you chant, and the wounds start to mend,
"I am evolving," your anthem, the truth you defend.
Creating, manifesting, with heart open wide,
A life rich with wonder, your soul’s chosen guide.

These mantras, like seeds, in your spirit now grow,
Morning’s promise of love in your being bestows.
A better life rises, the dawn’s sweet embrace,
Infused with your essence, your infinite grace.

In the quiet hum of a world that rushes,
Where footfalls echo on broken stone,
A voice still sings in the hush of hushes,
A heart still beats, though left alone.

Oh, cruel hands of time and trial,
They twist, they turn, they seek to mold,
Yet something lingers, tender, vital,
A warmth untouched by bitter cold.

The world, in its grumble, its clatter, its din,
Would etch its sorrow upon your skin,
Would carve you sharp, would make you steel,
Would teach you nevermore to feel.

But hush, dear soul, and hold your ground,
Let not the world make you unkind,
For in the hush of love profound,
Softness reigns, yet never blind.

Take pride in light the world denies,
In sugar spun from sorrow’s thread,
In laughter ringing under skies,
That some might call a dream long dead.

Oh, wear your sweetness like the dawn,
Let cynics sneer, let shadows call,
For even when the world moves on,
A heart that loves outlives them all.

We gather in crowds and whisper of silence,
yearning for touch, yet wincing at hands.
The streets are swollen with voices we summon,
and still, we retreat to the rooms of our minds.

Oh, the terrible weight of desire and distance!
To love so fiercely, yet long to be free,
to build up our houses, then dream of the desert,
to drown in a sea of all we let be.

I have walked between wanting and not,
two corridors lit with a flickering doubt,
one draped in the velvet of intimate longing,
the other a door I am always without.

What a riddle it is, to be so divided,
to hold out a hand and wish it unseen,
to ache for the warmth of an offered embrace,
and shrink from the shadow it leaves in between.

Perhaps we are all just echoes of echoes,
laughing in rooms where no one can hear,
writing our names on the walls of each other,
then leaving, before they can ever appear.

Life is beauty, and life is pain,
a dance of loss, a song of gain.
It shimmers gold, then fades to gray,
a fleeting dawn, a waning day.

It lifts us high with whispered bliss,
soft lips that touch, a lover's kiss.
Yet breaks us, bends us, tests our will,
a mountain steep, a climb uphill.

It thrills, it aches, it sparks, it wanes,
it hums in blood, it roars in veins.
It is laughter, it is weeping,
a waking dream, a midnight creeping.

It is the light that warms the skin,
the fear of losing all within.
It is the hand that pulls you near,
the shadowed doubts, the strangling fear.

It is the mundane, the slow, the still,
the silent hours, the quiet will.
It is the rush, the reckless run,
the roaring fire, the setting sun.

Yet if we never knew the fall,
would heights be precious things at all?
If never lost in tempest deep,
would peace be something worth to keep?

The jagged path, the winding lane,
the burning loss, the hard-won gain,
they carve the heart, they shape the soul,
they make the fractured spirit whole.

So let us rise, though winds may chide,
embrace the waves, the turning tide.
For life's not meant to be a line,
its peaks and valleys make it shine.

In shadowed streets where silence weeps,
And echoes chase the feet of time,
A whisper hums where sorrow sleeps,
“Stay soft,” it sings, “though life may climb
Its thorn-wrought walls and break your skin,
Do not let hardness settle in.”

For pain may press with quiet might,
May twist the dawn into the night,
But you, dear soul, are not your ache,
Not every bruise, not every break.
You are the hush between the rain,
The breath that rises after pain.

So let it hurt. Let teardrops fall
Like silver bells down sorrow’s wall.
Let it swell and let it sting,
Grief is a wild, untamed thing.
But let it heal. The heart, it knows
How even shattered gardens grow.

And when the ache begins to fade,
Like fog dissolved by morning’s blade,
Let it go—release its hold,
The stories pain has tried to mold.
You are more than what you bear,
A flame still dancing through despair.

So rise, as mist that greets the sun,
As rivers do when thaw has come.
Rise soft, rise fierce, rise with your grace,
The world may harden—but not your face.
Smile with the soul that’s weathered through,
There’s still a bloom inside of you.

In the hush between the ticking hours,
Where shadows curl beneath the tea-stained light,
I see you - yes, even now,
Even when you think the world has looked away.

You move through mornings like whispered prayers,
Gathering crumbs of courage from yesterday’s dreams,
Shouldering kindness like a well-worn coat,
Soft at the seams, but still stitched strong.

I see your effort,
Not the loud, banner-waving kind,
But the quiet heroism of simply rising,
Of showing up,
Of washing one more dish,
Smiling once more for someone else.

There is a grace in your weariness,
A dignity in your doubt.
You matter more than the world dares to tell you,
More than the mirror reveals
Or the silence admits.

Be gentle, dear traveller of tangled days.
You are not meant to outrun the dark
But to carry a candle within it.
And I,
With all the stars I can summon,
See you.

In a room where shadows stretched like sighs,
Where time wore slippers and whispered lies,
There stood a soul, not born, but built,
Threaded not from ease, but quilted guilt,
Not soft by chance, but choice refined,
By all the jagged things behind.

She walked where tempests cracked the sky,
Where childhood dreams went soft and dry,
Where harsh words bruised like winter sleet,
Yet still she offered something sweet.
Not sugar spun from naivety,
But honey from a wisdom tree.

For kindness, see, is not a gift
Wrapped neat in bows and morning lift,
It’s forged in fire, steeped in rain,
Tempered in sorrow, kissed by pain.
It’s choosing light with eyes gone dim,
And humming hope when edges grim.

She smiles not out of ignorance,
But as rebellion. As a dance.
As a thumb pressed gently in the eye
Of every grief that whispered: Why?

She learned to bloom where nothing grew,
To soften sharpness, split in two,
And still she laughed. And still she gave.
And still she found more hearts to save.

The kindest souls are not naive,
They know how often people leave,
How promises can turn to smoke,
Yet still, they mend the ones who broke.

So if you meet one - bless the thread
That stitched their wounds and raised their head.
They are the lanterns, fierce and bright,
Born not in ease, but in the night.

In the hush before the kettle sings,
Where morning drips from silver strings,
And sunbeams crawl on the windowsill,
Time pauses… just long enough to fill.

Do not - dear dreamer - slip back to grey,
Where thought loops tight in tangled fray.
Wake up! The world is softly grand,
A teacup trembling in your hand.

Gratitude tiptoes in bare, sweet feet,
Through toast crumbs, yawns, and tangled sheets.
She wears no crown, she needs no fame,
Yet all she touches finds its name.

Be kind - yes, even to the bee
That circles twice, then lets you be.
Be kind to traffic, to aching knees,
To grumpy clouds and stubborn trees.

The cosmos spins, a silent tune,
One minute sun, the next a moon.
Life changes coats - velvet, then threadbare,
It dances swift through shifting air.

So don’t get caught in grumble’s snare,
Or overthink the crooked stair.
The rose is best just smelled, not solved,
And mysteries are best evolved.

Bless the moment - the spoon, the sigh,
The way your laughter splits the sky.
A whisper floats: Be still. Be here.
The sacred hides in the simple, so near.

In the quiet between heartbeats, I found you there,
Not in grand gestures, but in a most gentle care.
In every moment your eyes softly see,
The deepest, truest parts of me.

You understand when words fall short,
When silence speaks more than love ever thought.
With devotion, you stand by my side,
A lighthouse constant through the tide.

You offer respect like a sacred prayer,
In every look, in how you’re always there.
You validate the dreams I dare to voice,
And reassure me, love is not a choice.
It’s how you show up, again and again,
In sunlight and sorrow, through joy and pain.

And I, in turn, trust your soul’s design,
Accepting your shadows as wholly divine.
I see your strength, and I admire,
The way you rise from every fire.

Your worth, your heart, I deeply approve,
With every breath, I show my love.
And when your courage starts to fade,
I’ll be your echo - unafraid.

Appreciation fills my every vow,
To cherish the person standing here now.
Encouragement will be my gift,
A steady wind, a soul’s uplift.

So let this be the promise I keep,
To love you wide, to love you deep.
Where caring meets trust, and devotion meets grace,
That’s where our love has found its place.

I. On the Nature of Smiles
A smile is a sneaky, invisible thing,
It creeps from the lips without flutter or wing,
But lo! when it lands on a stranger’s dull day,
It tickles the sorrow and shoos it away.

It travels through coffee shops, crosswalks, and queues,
It softens the sternest of daily-day news.
It has no real price, no receipt, no command,
And yet it could cradle the world in its hand.

II. The Grand and Glorious Hug
Now don’t underestimate (please, if you can)
The power of arms - be ye woman or man,
To wrap someone up like a parcel of peace,
To hush all the mayhem and grant them release.

A hug isn’t just for when sorrow attacks,
It’s also for moments when courage just lacks.
So squeeze with conviction, be warm, be profound,
A hug is a poem that needs not a sound.

III. Words of the Small-but-Mighty Kind
“Oh dear,” said the teacup, “I fear I may chip,”
Till a kind word arrived with a stiff upper lip.
“You're perfect,” it said. “You still hold the tea.”
And the teacup beamed back with revived dignity.

A phrase, just a whisper, can shatter the storm,
Can nudge someone’s heart back to hopeful and warm.
So toss kind words freely like petals or rain,
They land where they land, and they soften the pain.

IV. The Call to Now (and Never to Wait)
Oh yes, you may ponder, you may delay,
But kindness, my dear, was never that way.
It’s not for tomorrow or someday or soon,
It thrives in the morning, the dusk, and the noon.

So don’t be a waiter in life’s busy line,
Be wildly, ridiculously, wonderfully kind.
You never shall know what your ripple will do,
But I promise you this: it starts right with you.

You’ve wandered long through shadowed lands,
With trembling heart and open hands,
The clocks spun slow, the sky turned grey,
Yet still, you rose to meet the day.

A thousand questions marked your pace,
Who am I now? What is this place?
But hush - the wind, it softly knows,
The soul still grows, the spirit flows.

You wore your grief like autumn’s coat,
Then shed it when the spring took note.
The stars watched on with patient eyes,
As you began to reorganize.

Your path, your pace, your whispered dreams,
No longer bound to old regimes.
You dared to laugh, to love, to try,
Beneath a less familiar sky.

And though you walk with aching feet,
The journey’s song is bittersweet.
You are not lost - you’re being led,
By threads of gold the Fates have spread.

So question all! The love, the lore,
The quiet "why," the distant shore.
You’re not alone - just newly found,
Among kind hearts, profound and sound.

Step forward now with trust, with grace,
The future waits to know your face.
For all that’s past is not yet gone,
You’re just becoming who you’ve been all along.

In the quiet chambers of the soul,
Where whispers weave and echoes roll,
A sacred bond, a whispered vow,
Between us two, sealed here and now.

No eyes shall see, no ears shall hear,
The tender truths we hold so near.
For this must ever be our thread,
Unbroken, though by time misled.

The world may beckon, loud and grand,
Its curious reach, its prying hand,
Yet what we share, they'll never see,
A universe gently spun silently.

Oh, how the stars conspire to hide
This luminous fire we hold inside!
A treasure buried, rich, unseen,
In fields of shadows, evergreen.

Your voice, a song no bard could sing,
Your touch, a feathered, fleeting thing.
The words we speak in twilight's glow
Are whispers only we can know.

No keys can turn, no locks shall break,
The solemn oath we dared to make.
Not even time, with ceaseless tread,
Can strip this secret we have bred.

Between us flows a current deep,
A river dreams itself to keep,
And in its depths, the truth shall stay,
Unmoved by night, untouched by day.

Let others chase the fleeting gleam,
The transient glow of waking dream.
For ours is hidden, vast, and free,
A realm that lives with only thee.

And so, this secret, bound in grace,
Will linger in our timeless space.
A covenant no eye can see,
Just you, my heart, and only me.

They called you kind, a gentle soul,
Soft as petals, sweet and whole.
You bore the weight of every storm,
A refuge where the ruthless swarm.

You folded yourself in careful lines,
Shrank to fit their grand designs.
Smiled through wounds they couldn't see,
Convinced that love meant loyalty.

But kindness should not taste like chains,
Nor drown beneath another's pains.
To give is grace, but not to lose,
The voice, the light, the right to choose.

Why must your comfort come last in line?
Why must you dim so they may shine?
A heart so vast, yet bound so tight,
A sky eclipsed to spare the night.

No more. No more the whispered "yes,"
That bends your spine in self-duress.
No more apologies for thin air,
For taking space, for standing there.

To choose yourself is not unkind,
Not cruel, not selfish, just aligned.
Boundaries drawn with steady hands,
Are sacred vows, not harsh demands.

And those who love you, who truly see,
Will bless your rise, will set you free.
The rest will fall, like autumn leaves,
Carried off on silent eves.

So stand, unshaken, bold and true,
Unbowed by guilt they place on you.
For peace is not in being small,
It's daring, fully, to be your all.

Oh, tender balm, the sweetest art,
A force unseen that mends the heart,
Through whispered winds and golden light,
Love heals the wounds of endless night.

Its touch is soft, yet deeply sure,
A salve for pain no time could cure.
In every glance, in every sigh,
It weaves a bridge where sorrows lie.

Beneath the shadows, cold and deep,
Where silent fears and heartbreaks sleep,
Love stirs the soul, ignites the flame,
And teaches us we're not to blame.

It breaks the chains of loss and woe,
Through gentle streams, it bids us grow.
A symphony of hope it plays,
And paints with grace the darkest days.

When grief has silenced all our songs,
And life feels cruel, unjust, and wrong,
Love bends the air with soft refrain,
And fills the cracks with joy again.

It dwells in hands that hold with care,
In every prayer, in every stare.
In laughter shared and tears that flow,
Love whispers, "Child, you're not alone."

Its healing power transcends the scars,
Unites the earth, connects the stars.
A boundless force, it knows no end,
A steadfast guide, a truest friend.

Through love, the shattered heart is whole,
It breathes new life into the soul.
Oh, sacred cure, eternal grace,
The healer time cannot replace.

For love is more than fleeting bliss;
It lives in every tender kiss,
In acts of kindness, pure and true,
The healing of love renews, anew.

Into the dream you come, unbidden,
A shadow forged from light, a storm concealed.
The delicate strands of my quiet haven,
Unraveled beneath your touch, unhealed.

Across the soft carpet of my reverie,
You tread with hobnail boots, a jarring song.
Each step a symphony of discord,
Yet strangely, I crave you to linger long.

The velvet mists of my tender musings
Once kissed my soul with whispers sweet.
Now, torn asunder by your intrusion,
They coil around your resolute feet.

Oh, but how can I resist this chaos?
This beautiful wreckage you leave in your wake?
You trample the fragile blooms of my solace,
But in their ruin, new dreams awake.

For each mark you etch on my tranquil spirit
Speaks of passion, raw and wild, untamed.
You are the storm to my placid meadow,
The fire that leaves me scalded, yet named.

Do you know the weight of your intrusion?
Do you see the paths you've scarred and worn?
And yet, I cannot bid you to leave,
For in your rapture, I am reborn.

Into the dream you come, relentless,
And I, the keeper of this fragile space,
Stand transfixed, as you carve your essence,
Into the contours of this sacred place.

So tread, my tempest, tread without mercy,
Let your boots resound in my dream's embrace.
For though you shatter, though you unmake me,
In your destruction, I find my grace.

(The Weightless Dawn)

Oh, anxious heart, so tight in its hold,
A whispering storm, both silent and bold.
It creeps like shadows before the light,
Stealing the peace from the depths of night.

It tells you stories carved in fear,
Echoes of doubt you should not hear.
It pulls you under, a swirling tide,
Yet strength still stirs from deep inside.

Breathe, dear soul, let stillness grow,
Like rivers learning where to flow.
Not every thought is yours to keep,
Let them rise, then let them sleep.

For you are not the weight you bear,
Not tangled worry, nor thin-worn air.
You are the sky, vast and wide,
Holding the storms, yet letting them glide.

Inhale the dawn, exhale the past,
Not every storm is meant to last.
Feel the earth beneath your feet,
Steady, solid, calm, complete.

The moon still glows, the stars still shine,
Hope is etched in every line.
And when the night feels far too long,
Know in your soul, you still belong.

So take each moment, slow and kind,
A love-lit path within your mind.
Anxiety fades, like mist at sea,
And in its place, you set yourself free.

I have walked through evenings bent with silence,
where the hush of the streetlamp hums my name,
a hero, perhaps, in the whisper of one,
a villain in the frown of another.

I have been carved in shadows by the wary,
painted golden by the kind.
To some, I am a tempest in an unmade room,
to others, the hush of rain against glass.

Was it not yesterday I was brave,
standing tall in borrowed boots,
tilting at windmills with a fool's delight?
And yet, in another's eye, I trembled,
a thing too soft for the weight of days.

Oh, but how I have been too much!
A song sung sharp at the wrong table,
a fire burning too close to brittle walls.
And yet, to some, I have been warmth,
the quiet pulse of a lighthouse on tired waters.

I have been named.
Carved into stories I did not write.
Draped in colours I never chose.
Told where to stand, when to bow,
but the stage shifts beneath my feet.

The world is a house of mirrors,
each face a different truth,
each window another version of me.

So let me laugh at the fickle tide,
let me dance in the winds of contradiction,
let me live - oh, let me live!
not as the world sculpts me to be,
but as the wild, wandering shape of my own heart.

The day fell like a crumpled note,
tossed into the wastebasket of time,
a whisper, a cough, a footstep fading,
the sound of nothing,
the echo of things left unsaid.

I walked through streets without pavement,
over stones that remembered me not.
Each window was an eye, unblinking,
a stare of glass indifferent to grief.

The wind pressed against my cheek,
not a caress, not a blow,
just a presence,
like the weight of a name no longer called.

I did not weep, though my heart did,
a different kind of pain,
a betrayal of the body's rituals.

Tears demand permission,
but silence sneaks in, unbidden,
settles between the ribs,
lodges behind the throat,
a ghost pressing against the edges of breath.

And so the hours unravelled,
like a frayed sleeve in a forgotten coat,
threadbare, loose at the seams,
and still I walked,
searching for the shape of sorrow,
in the absence of rain.

Night came in its sensible shoes,
soft-footed, practical, gray.
No stars, no moon,
only the hum of a world
that did not know I was breaking.

I sat on the edge of the bed,
hands resting like relics on my knees.
And the heart wept again,
as it always does,
quietly,
where no one can see.

You do not see it? No, not yet,
But hush, lean in, the air is wet,
with murmurs soft, with silent schemes,
A ripple forming in your dreams.

Somewhere beyond the measured mind,
Beyond the clock, beyond the blind,
A current stirs, a tether tugs,
Unseen hands through unseen rugs.

Weaving fate with thread so fine,
You'd miss it in the light of time,
The logic-bound may doubt and jest,
May clutch the past against their chest.

Yet in your bones, the echo hums,
The quiet cadence - something comes.
A nudge, a note, a feather's fall,
The syncopated cosmic call.

The shifting sky, the bending air,
A path where none was ever there,
And what are you to do, but stay?
Not chase, not plead, not force the way.

But open wide, unclench, undo,
Make space for what is meant for you.
The weight you've borne, the tales now old,
The rusted keys, the hands too cold.

Let them slip, let them fade,
Let the past be past, unmade.
For soon - yes, soon, you'll turn to see,
The tangled threads unwound, set free.

The map that once refused to show
Was drawn by steps you didn't know.
The hush will break, the sky will part,
What's meant for you will meet your heart.

And you will stand where time aligns,
Where fate and trust have intertwined,
And in that moment, bright and true,
You'll smile and say, "I always knew".

What do you see, nurse, when you look at me?
A frail, weary man lost in time's endless sea?
Do you sigh as you dress me, as you lift, as you feed,
Thinking my silence is nothing but need?

Do you see only hands that tremble and shake,
A mind lost in shadows, a body that breaks?
Do you see the dim eyes, the slow, shuffling gait,
A soul out of time, just awaiting its fate?

Look deeper, dear nurse, beyond this old skin,
Past the wrinkles, the frailty, the world closing in.
For once, I was young, with fire in my chest,
A heart full of dreams, unburdened, unpressed.

I was a child, with laughter so bright,
Running through fields bathed in golden-hued light.
I was a lover, my pulse racing wild,
Holding her close, love's innocent child.

I was a father, strong, steadfast, and true,
Teaching small hands what life could undo.
I built and I shaped, I gave and I grew,
Watched them all flourish, then bid them adieu.

Now time plays its tricks, and my body betrays,
Yet inside I am dancing through long-ago days.
My spirit still soars, though my body is weak,
My voice still longs for the words it can't speak.

So look at me, nurse, not as fading, not done,
Not just a burden, not just anyone.
See the years, the love, the battles, the scars,
The dreams that still shine like forgotten stars.

For within this old man, there's a soul fierce and free,
If only you'd look, if only you'd see.

In the stillness of your mind, truth hums,
A whisper in shadows, where silence drums.
It lingers softly, a quiet refrain,
Nestled in corners of joy and pain.

It waits in the pit where instincts dwell,
A weight on your chest, a story to tell.
You push, you pull, yet there it stays,
Threading your nights and haunting your days.

To know is a blade that cuts so deep,
Through veils of denial, through restless sleep.
Yet knowing alone is a hollow key,
Until you accept what's meant to be.

Acceptance, a bridge so fraught with demand,
It asks for your courage, a trembling stand.
It calls for release of the things you've held,
The hopes that have bound you, the fears you've quelled.

Change looms like a tempest, fierce and wide,
But within it, strength will always reside.
The answer is etched, carved into your soul,
Not a fragment, but the whole of the whole.

Still, you stall, you bargain for time,
For proof, for signs, for stars to align.
But beneath it all, the truth is clear,
Its voice grows louder, ever near.

To surrender is not to bow or break,
But to rise with the courage your heart will make.
For the strength you seek is already there,
In the depths of your being, waiting to dare.

So step through the fire, embrace the flame,
Let knowing and accepting become the same.
On the other side, you'll find your way,
Lit by the truth you faced today.

Risk more than required; let your spirit take flight,
Step boldly through shadows to summon the light.
Learn more than is normal; let curiosity reign,
Each question a treasure, each answer your gain.

Be strong in the tempests, steadfast in the gale,
Show courage when faltering hearts might fail.
Breathe deeply, with purpose, in stillness, in storm,
Excel with your essence, rewrite the norm.

Love fiercely, for love reshapes the mundane,
Lead brightly, a beacon through joy and through pain.
Speak your truth, even when silence prevails,
Live your values, a compass when certainty fails.

Laugh with abandon, let joy fill the air,
Cry without shame, for your soul to repair.
Innovate boldly, let new paths arise,
Simplify wisely, see through the disguise.

Adore mastery; seek it in art and in skill,
Release mediocrity; bend life to your will.
Aim for genius, where brilliance ignites,
Stay humble in triumph, shun ego's heights.

Be kinder than needed, let warmth overflow,
Deliver abundance, let generosity grow.
Exude passion, let fire blaze in your eyes,
Shatter your limits, let your spirit surprise.

Transcend your fears, unshackle your soul,
Inspire by bigness, make others feel whole.
Dream grandly, but start with a seed in the earth,
Act now, without pause, give each moment its worth.

Don't stop; let persistence carve through the stone,
Change the world, and make its wonder your own.
For being amazing is a life that you weave,
A tapestry spun from all you believe.

Melt like snow beneath a sunlit sky,
Let your burdens fade, let the old self die.
Each flake of sorrow, each shard of pride,
Softly dissolves as the streams confide.

Wash yourself from yourself, oh soul laid bare,
Find in the stillness a truth to declare.
The world will whisper, "Hold fast, don't yield,"
But love is not found in a fortress or shield.

It blooms in surrender, in silence profound,
In the space where no chains of the ego are bound.
Let the river cleanse what clings to the bone,
And hear the whispers of seeds you've sown.

Love, silent as a lily, takes root in your core,
No trumpet to herald, no need to implore.
Its petals unfold in the quiet of night,
A miracle formed in the absence of fight.

Not loud, not proud, not seeking the throne,
It thrives in a heart that has learned to atone.
Oh, let yourself vanish, dissolve in the stream,
For love is the dream within all other dreams.

The soul that releases, the self that refrains,
Shall find in its yielding what truly remains.
A garden eternal, where lilies reside,
Their fragrance a hymn to the love inside.

So melt like snow, and wash yourself free,
A vessel of grace for the vast, endless sea.
Let love grow quiet, yet steadfast and strong,
A lily's soft bloom is where you belong.

In the sweetness of friendship, a light softly glows,
A warmth that the heart in its stillness well knows.
Let there be laughter, like a song on the breeze,
A melody whispered through sun-dappled trees.

For in this communion, life's burdens grow light,
Shared joys become stars that illumine the night.
The pleasure of moments, both simple and rare,
Is a treasure we gather with love's tender care.

A smile exchanged in the quiet of dawn,
A word that rekindles when hope seems withdrawn.
Like the dew on the petals at morning's first gleam,
Friendship revives us, a comforting dream.

Not in the grandeur of triumphs we find,
But in the small joys, the unspoken kind.
The clasp of a hand, the glint of an eye,
The laughter that dances, unchained to the sky.

These little things, a glance, a shared cup of tea,
Are pearls in the ocean of life's mystery.
Each droplet of kindness, a balm for the soul,
Each moment of laughter, a piece of the whole.

And as dew on the meadow, it quietly heals,
The heart finds its morning in all that it feels.
A freshness, a vigor, a life redefined,
Through friendship's pure sweetness, our spirits aligned.

So let us give laughter, and pleasures, and more,
A refuge, a haven, an open heart's door.
For in these small wonders, our joy is expressed,
In the sweetness of friendship, the soul is at rest.

A whisper stirs within the mind,
a seed of light, a thread unspooled,
where once the winds of doubt would bind,
now dawn ignites the vast and true.

For thoughts, like rivers, carve their way,
through valleys deep, through stone and sand,
they shape the world, they cast the day,
they sculpt the soul with unseen hands.

What if the storm inside could cease?
What if the weight we bear could shift?
What if a thought could birth release,
and turn the dark to golden mist?

The mind - a garden, wild and free,
can bloom with thorns or fields of grace,
can weave despair or destiny,
can paint the stars, can find embrace.

The past is ink that need not stain,
tomorrow waits with open palm,
no chain remains that thought can't tame,
no fire too wild for hope's cool balm.

So think in love, let kindness bloom,
let mercy breathe where pain has slept,
let faith outgrow the ghosts of gloom,
let trust reclaim what fear once kept.

For change is not some distant land,
nor bound by fate, nor ruled by time,
it lives within your open hand,
it breathes inside your quiet mind.

So shift the thought, the path will bend,
release the weight, the soul will rise,
for all begins where visions send,
change the thought, and touch the skies.

A child's cry splits the midnight air,
shattered glass, the scent of despair.
The streets once humming with songs and trade
now echo with the ghosts war has made.

The sky is bruised, blackened with flame,
a mother wails, calls out a name.
But silence swallows, dust and stone,
a city turned to blood and bone.

Where laughter danced in alleyways,
now sorrow clings to broken days.
Olive trees, once kissed by light,
stand charred and twisted in the night.

A father kneels by what remains,
hands trembling, whispering names.
His house is gone, his hands hold air,
his heart beats on, though nothing's there.

The sea still sways, the tide still turns,
though every home in darkness burns.
The stars look down, they do not weep,
while children lie in dreamless sleep.

A schoolyard once alive with play
now pools with tears at break of day.
The market stalls, the sacred ground,
all crumbled now, no voices sound.

Yet even here, amid the ash,
hope still flickers, whispers past.
A mother lifts her weary hand,
plants a seed in stolen land.

For one day, when the guns are gone,
when war's dark shadow meets the dawn.
This earth will bloom, this land will rise,
and peace will shine in children's eyes.

All the hidden wounds will heal one day,
like whispers lost in morning's ray.
The silent ache, the uncried tears,
will vanish with the passing years.

The scars will fade, their stories dim,
like echoes sung in twilight's hymn.
No longer will the past hold tight,
for love will bathe you in its light.

The pain will bow, then take its leave,
no longer shadows heave and weave.
No longer storms will haunt your skies,
but gentle dawns with golden eyes.

And happiness, so soft, so true,
will bloom within, will dance with you.
A guest no more, but home to stay,
to paint your heart in hues of May.

For you were made for love alone,
not endless nights of ache and stone.
Your heart was shaped by hands divine,
a sacred place where stars align.

So hush, dear soul, the time will come
when sorrow sings its final drum.
And love will stand, arms open wide,
to claim its place, forever inside.

(Inspired by Ralph Waldo Emerson's words)

Write it on your heart, a golden decree,
Each day a jewel, let it glimmer free.
The dawn unfolds with a sacred hue,
A canvas untouched, awash in dew.

The sun ascends, a celestial flame,
Whispering softly, "Today is your name."
No yesterdays linger, no tomorrows plead,
This moment is yours, the soul's only need.

Banish the shadows of fear and regret,
Each breath a promise you've yet to forget.
The world awakens, in chorus it sings,
A hymn of new chances, the joy it brings.

Feel the pulse of life in the morning air,
A love letter waiting, beyond compare.
The trees bend low, their wisdom to share,
"Seize this day; hold it tender, with care."

For every hour is a gift divine,
A chalice of nectar, ambrosial wine.
Drink deeply, dear soul, and let it bestow
The courage to thrive, the freedom to grow.

Even the storm, with its tempest cry,
Clears the way for a brighter sky.
The rain is a poet, its verses profound,
Each droplet a blessing, the earth is crowned.

Write it on your heart, etch it in gold,
Each day a treasure, its worth untold.
No promise is greater, no truth more clear,
Today is the best day of the year.

Love rests on no foundation, no stone, no earth, no clay,
No pillar carved by mortal hands, no form that fades away.
It floats upon the endless sea, a tide that knows no shore,
An open sky, eternal blue, forever, evermore.

It rises in the morning mist, it hums the song of stars,
It journeys through the boundless night, unbound by time or scars.
No boundary can confine its reach, no tether hold it fast,
Its present is eternity; no future, and no past.

The endless ocean whispers deep, its voice both fierce and kind,
A tempest wild, a tender breeze, the balance undefined.
It carves the cliffs of fleeting lives, its waves both strong and pure,
A force that bends, that shapes, transforms, yet leaves the soul secure.

No source can claim its genesis, no point can mark its start,
It spills beyond the map of thought, and floods the aching heart.
No end awaits its ceaseless tide, no shore to bid adieu,
Its currents flow through every life, through every "me" and "you."

To grasp its form is to let go, to hold it is to free,
To lose yourself within its depths, and find infinity.
For love, unmoored, untamed, divine, is more than we can name,
An endless ocean, vast and wild, yet every wave the same.

So cast away your anchor, drift, surrender to its flow,
For love's great truth is simply this: the only home you'll know.

Two shadows linger where the soul does dwell,
Each whispers truths, yet which shall we compel?
One wears the cloak of hope, a boundless sky,
The other drapes in storms, where doubts reside.

Faith stands unyielding, a flame in the dark,
A quiet whisper, a celestial spark.
It asks for trust in what we cannot prove,
Yet nudges the heart, the spirit to move.

It builds from dreams, a bridge where none appear,
Its pillars born of love, its span sincere.
Through trials vast, its song will never cease,
A steadfast current, carving paths of peace.

Fear too, a force, demands its hungry share,
A shadowed specter, breathing heavy air.
It plants its seeds in moments fraught with doubt,
And tends them well till courage is devout.

Its voice, a thunder, echoes through the night,
And tempts the heart to flee from morning's light.
It thrives on what we dread, on what we lack,
Its siren call pulls weary spirits back.

Both faith and fear demand a quiet trust
In unseen forces, in the fate of dust.
One feeds the fire that dares the stars to rise,
The other dims the glow in hopeful eyes.

The choice is ours: to cower or to climb,
To dwell in shadows or let the soul unwind.
For though unseen, the path we choose is clear,
Will it be faith that guides, or will it be fear?

This is how you find your way,
Through shadows thick and skies of gray.
If you never try, you'll never see
The boundless strength that sets you free.

For buried deep within your soul,
A spark ignites to make you whole.
You'll never know how high you'll climb,
Until you dare defy the time.

The universe, so vast, aware,
Whispers softly, "I am there."
To hold, to guide, to help you soar,
To show you worlds and so much more.

The heart hesitates, the mind resists,
The unknown looms, a ghostly mist.
But in that haze, a gift may glow,
A promise of what you'll only know.

Uncertainty, a fearsome face,
Is but a mask for boundless space.
Each step you take, a door unfolds,
Revealing treasures your courage holds.

Infinite paths, untravelled bends,
Are laden with beginnings, not ends.
To grow, transform, expand, receive,
The unknown gifts when you believe.

So heed the pull, that whispered call,
Risk the stumble, risk the fall.
For dreams that linger, long untried,
Are seeds of magic waiting inside.

The path ahead, though veiled in mist,
Holds answers to the questions missed.
It's not so scary, not so wild,
It's the playground of your inner child.

So step into the vast unknown,
And claim the life that's truly your own.
For maybe, just maybe, this path you seek,
Is where your soul learns how to speak.

As the dawn unfolds on twenty-twenty-five,
Let us awaken, fully alive.
With tender hearts, let’s set the tone,
To love ourselves, to make it known.

Not in grand gestures or towering feats,
But in quiet moments, life’s simple treats.
The whisper of leaves, the warmth of the sun,
The quiet triumphs when the day is done.

For growth resides not just in acclaim,
But in unseen sparks that light the flame.
The courage to pause, to breathe, to feel,
The smallest joys that make life real.

Take the leap, though shadows loom,
The path ahead may yet bloom.
Trust the compass within your chest,
It leads you true, it knows you best.

Dare to be bold, dare to be free,
Life’s too short to dim your spree.
Wear your heart upon your sleeve,
In your own worth, always believe.

Choose your circle with gentle care,
Find those who uplift, who truly dare
To stand beside, through storm and sun,
Your soul’s companions, the chosen ones.

Be kind, be love, a radiant guide,
A mirror of hope for the world outside.
In every moment, let beauty unfold,
Each breath a story, precious and bold.

Let us make twenty-twenty-five divine,
A year to cherish, a year to shine.
Together we’ll walk, through joy and strife,
Creating a masterpiece of life.

The clock ticks closer, its hands align,
To mark the threshold, a sacred line.
A year once weary fades to mist,
As hope ignites in a joyful twist.

The night awakens with festive cheer,
To welcome bright a brand-new year.
The air is ripe with a thousand dreams,
As stars embroider midnight streams.

Fireworks bloom in the velvet sky,
A radiant promise, a bold goodbye.
To moments past, both sweet and bittersweet,
We bow in grace, our hearts replete.

Traditions weave their timeless thread,
Of feasts prepared and prayers said.
Families gather, champagne flows,
Bonds are cherished as the New Year glows.

Resolutions rise, both strong and frail,
Whispers of hope that seek to prevail.
"To love more deeply, to dream anew,
To honour the courage within me and you."

Candles flicker, casting light,
On shadows that danced in the fading night.
The future beckons with open arms,
A symphony sweet, of endless charms.

Happy New Year, your magic profound,
A sacred hymn, a joyful sound.
You carry the promise of untold days,
A canvas awaiting our vibrant ways.

Through celebrations that heal and bind,
Traditions passed to heart and mind,
We honour the past, embrace the now,
And say 'lets go' with steadfast vow.

So, let us toast with hearts sincere,
To a luminous, blessed, and bright New Year.
May dreams take flight, and love be true,
As the world awakens, refreshed, renewed.

Oh, sacred night of joy and cheer,
When hearts grow warm, and love draws near,
The yuletide flame, a tender light,
Illumines homes in winter's night.

Beneath the boughs of evergreen,
The spirit stirs, serene, unseen,
For Christmas weaves a golden thread,
Through all we've cherished, all we've said.

A tapestry of love unfolds,
In stories shared, in hands we hold.
The laughter of a child rings clear,
The echo of all we hold dear.

Around the table, faces glow,
With warmth no winter's chill can stow.
The feast laid out, a banquet true,
Of memories old and dreams anew.

For family gathers, hearts entwined,
With love that weathers tide and time.
Through trials faced and battles won,
Together stronger, all as one.

The gifts we give are but a token,
Of bonds unbroken, words unspoken.
The greatest gift? To simply be,
In the presence of love and family.

The star above, it guides us still,
Through life's terrain, o'er vale and hill.
It whispers softly, "Love is near,
In every moment, every year."

And so we hold this truth divine,
That love and family intertwine.
No wealth nor gold could match the worth,
Of those we treasure here on earth.

This Christmas time, let hearts align,
In love's embrace, in joy's design.
For in this fleeting life, we see,
The holiest of all gifts - is family.

There is a voice not of syllables or sound,
not of vowels stitched to breath,
it hides in the pulse beneath your skin,
it hums in the marrow of mountains split open
and rivers unchained.

It speaks in the bend of the trees,
where the wind aches to be known,
and in the spaces between heartbeats,
where silence clings like ash.

It is the cry of stars unravelling,
light-years collapsing into whispers
only felt by those who listen with their bones,
with the roots, they bury in the earth's tender belly.

You cannot grasp it with language,
it evades the tongue's traps,
a wild thing caught in the thicket
of forgotten dreams.

But if you sit still enough,
let the world crack open your chest,
you'll feel it moving through you,
the speech of things unsaid,
an ancient rhythm, that all the noise
has taught you to forget.

Listen.

Oh, the magic of Christmas, so tender and bright,
A season of wonder, of joy, and delight.
When snowflakes fall soft, and the world wears a glow,
In hearts and in homes, love's warmth starts to grow.

The crackle of fires, the sparkle of trees,
The laughter that dances like whispers in breeze.
From kitchens arise scents of cinnamon sweet,
As families gather, their spirits complete.

The love that this season so gently bestows,
Wraps round like a blanket when cold winter blows.
It’s found in the hugs of the ones we hold dear,
In whispers of kindness that all can revere.

Children’s eyes gleam with a radiant light,
As stockings are filled in the still of the night.
Their giggles and glee as they wake Christmas morn,
A reminder of joy from the moment we're born.

Around the great table, with feast laid with care,
We share in the bounty, the love that is there.
With stories and laughter, the bonds grow more tight,
As hearts are enkindled by soft candlelight.

And though gifts are given, the truest of all,
Is the presence of family, answering love’s call.
For riches can fade, and treasures may part,
But love is eternal, engraved in the heart.

So let us remember, as this season unfolds,
It’s not just the tinsel, the silver, or gold.
But Christmas is cherished when hearts are as one,
A time for pure love and for family fun.

There's a moment not a second in time, but a shift,
a break from the tug-of-war with the world,
where you stop begging for scraps of approval
and instead, become the feast.

You shed the weight of waiting,
the self that bent for someone else's gaze,
and you stand, naked in your truth
anointed by your own hands.

This is where it begins.
Not the hustle, not the hunger,
but the fullness of presence,
the light that once flickered inside you
now roars, unchecked, a wildfire of enoughness.

No more running from mirrors
or molding yourself into what they might love.
No more thirsting for the gaze of others
as though it could define the edges of your worth.
Instead, you shape yourself,
hold yourself, be with yourself.

In this stillness,
the world finally takes notice.
Not of what you chased, but what you are.
Suddenly, the current pulls toward you
people who don't just fit into your life,
but match your rhythm, your pulse, your fire.

The striving, the forcing, it all fades.
Instead, there's flow,
the universe turning on its axis,
slowly bending toward the centre you've found within.

And what once felt distant,
something to earn with sweat and sacrifice,
now arrives, effortless in its timing,
perfect in its place.

You don't rise to meet the world
the world rises to meet you.

And everything that matters
falls into step with the beat of your becoming.
Because the light inside you is no longer a flicker.
It's a sun,
and the whole world blooms beneath it.

(A Poetic Ode)

Beneath the amber skies of fall, we gather near the hearth,
A season's whisper beckons us, to honour what has worth.
The bounty spread upon the table gleams with autumn's hue,
Yet richer still, the wealth of hearts, in gratitude made true.

Oh, Thanksgiving, sacred pause, a hymn to life's delight,
You teach us how to cherish dawns and praise the velvet night.
The golden grains, the ripened fruit, the earth's abundant yield,
Remind us of the laboured hands that tilled each cherished field.

Not just the feast of sustenance, but nourishment of soul,
In giving thanks, our spirits bloom, becoming strong and whole.
We bow to love's eternal flame, to friendships forged in fire,
To dreams that rise like phoenix wings, ignited with desire.

The laughter of the young resounds, the wisdom of the old,
Together weaving memories, more precious than fine gold.
The stories shared around the flame, the blessings softly sung,
Bind us in a tender thread, no matter where we're flung.

Oh, gratitude, a gentle seed that blossoms into grace,
Transforming every moment into something we embrace.
Even in the shadows, there's a light that softly glows,
A quiet joy, a whispered peace that every heart bestows.

Thanksgiving is a sacred gift, a time to truly see,
The beauty in the simple things, the power of "we."
So let us raise our voices high, our thanks to heaven send,
For life, for love, for one another, gifts that never end.

Honestly, have you ever been honest with yourself?
Does your breath fill your lungs, or is it stolen,
held ransom by the lie that bears your name?

There's a certain thrill in self-deception,
the shimmer of a mask molded to your skin,
layer by layer, scraped on thick like survival,
fitting snug to every societal bone.

But beneath that weight, what are you left with?
Bare ribs like prison bars,
a heartbeat that paces but cannot leave.
Here's the truth, raw and gaping,
the world would gladly paint you
in colours that wash away in rain.

And yet.
You are a tide that swells,
the surge against a thousand invisible walls.
Your voice is a pulse, electric with truth,
a spark meant to ignite, not wither or fade.

Can you hear that?
The whisper you buried beneath obedience,
the quiet call wrapped in compromise?

Let it be heard now, like a lion loosed.
To be honest with yourself is to set fire
to every inch that doesn't feel like home,
to burn away the foreign fabric of expectations
until the ashes reveal
the shape you were born to wear.

Reclaim the you that is yours alone,
and dare to stand in that skin,
a stranger, perhaps, but honest,
always honest.

Beneath the skies where sun once gently kissed,
The earth now trembles, wrapped in warming mist.
Her breath, once pure, now heavy with despair,
The winds lament, their whispers haunt the air.

Oceans swell with sorrow's rising tide,
Swallowing lands where dreams and hope reside.
The coral pales, its vibrant hues erased,
By acid rains, a fragile world displaced.

The forests cry as ancient trees collapse,
A cradle lost within our reckless grasp.
Their roots, once deep, now grasp at fleeting earth,
Their leaves, like tears, recall a verdant birth.

The ice retreats, majestic realms undone,
Their frozen splendor melting in the sun.
The polar bear, adrift on shrinking floes,
A silent witness to the world she knows.

Yet still, a spark of hope ignites the flame,
A call for change resounds in nature's name.
With every hand, united hearts can weave,
A future bright, where earth can yet believe.

O let us rise, the stewards of this place,
To heal her wounds and honour her embrace.
For time still turns, and we hold in our care,
The fragile world that bids us to repair.

Nothing outside yourself can cause you any trouble.
Here, where the breath begins, waves take root in shadows,
and you, the maker of storms and silence, hold them,
a sculptor in your own tides, bound to no storm but the one you summon.

Step back; let your hands unclench,
let the waves ease, let the current
of your thought roll to a gentle pulse,
a quiet that does not seek, that does not grasp.

See how trouble is born from the grip,
the tightness that weaves into the rhythm
of a restless mind, churning because it thinks it must.
The oceans stir, but not from what lies beyond the shore,
they stir for the self-made winds we unleash,
from restless hands that shape the swell.

Let it be. Let the mind rest like stones on the seabed,
each one layered with peace, each one a depth untouched
by surface winds, the rippling chaos of a world beyond.
In this stillness, nothing is heavy, nothing is lost.

For if you leave your mind as it is,
if you walk from the need to move every current,
you find the water rests in the clarity of itself.
Here is peace, untouched, unshaken, clear as the open sky.

Your trouble, your waves, these were only hands,
stretching to hold a force that was never outside.

Oh, isn't it sad, this tale we weave,
Of a heart so giving, yet too bereaved?
Her laughter, a melody, sweet and pure,
A balm for others, their pain's cure.

Her hands, like lanterns, dispelling the dark,
Her smile igniting the faintest spark.
In every soul, she planted delight,
Yet none looked deeper, beyond the light.

She carried the weight of their secret fears,
Wiping their sorrows, drying their tears.
But oh, the silence when night would fall,
Echoing questions, unanswered call.

Isn't it tragic, the giver's plight?
To brighten the world, yet lose her light?
Her joy, a facade, a painted face,
While her heart longed for its own embrace.

Who stopped to wonder, who dared to see,
The woman behind the mystery?
For giving all, she forgot to keep
The dreams that stirred in her soul's deep.

So here's the lesson, a whisper, a plea:
See the unseen, let hearts roam free.
Ask the question, break the chain,
For the giver too feels joy and pain.

Oh, isn't it sad, and isn't it true?
Her light burned bright, but she needed it too.

You are meant to stride through sunlit streets,
glimmering with the confidence of gods,
and then, in the moon's pull,
be hollowed out by questions older than the stars.

You are meant to live years that pour like water,
slipping unnoticed through your fingers,
while a single afternoon clutches you tight,
unwilling to release its grip.

There are supposed to be voices that cut through your certainty,
teeth in their syllables,
while others hold you like a whisper,
soft enough to heal the fractures.

You are meant to fail, to fall, to splinter.
Not broken,
but scattered like seeds,
aching to bloom in the chaos of the dirt.

The horizon is not always a promise,
sometimes it's a reminder
that wandering is necessary,
and that the map was never yours to hold.

You were never meant to have all the answers.
You are allowed to be incomplete,
to be a question mark in a world obsessed with exclamation points.

Nothing is wrong with you.
You are just becoming more - 'YOU'.

Let it pulse like thunder in the hollow
of your chest,
let it tear at the seams
of certainty, let it live.

Stop the fists clenched, the hard-won wishes
shoved against the walls of fate.
Let go
the trembling grip on that which slips
through your fingers like sand, like smoke,
like the memory of a forgotten dream.

The world, vast and reckless, asks only
that you breathe it in,
not wrangle it into submission.

Feel it.
How everything meant for you
whispers on a current unseen,
how it weaves
like shadow and light through the very marrow
of your bones, calling you by name,
soft as a promise,
certain as blood.

So let it flow, let it go, this war,
this force,
this heavy ache of trying to shape
the ocean into your palms,
let it all fall
like rain to the earth.

Trust.
Trust that all that belongs
will come like wild birds returning,
like rivers finding the sea,
effortless, fated, bold.

And so you breathe.
You breathe in life, vast, unknowable,
more wild and free than desire.

You let it move, unchained.

And in that breath, in that letting go,
you become,
everything you were ever meant to be.

In shadowed alleys where secrets dwell,
A city's pulse, its mournful knell,
The Penguin rises, cloaked in night,
A figure cast in shadows' light.

Born of Gotham's grit and grime,
A creature formed by crime's hard line,
His heart, a fortress, chilled and stark,
His path is paved through midnight's dark.

With clever mind and ruthless hand,
He carves his name upon the land,
A broken soul with sharp, keen edge,
Against the world, he makes his pledge.

For power's flame, he burns his past,
A king of ashes, first and last.
Where empires crumble, he will rise,
A cunning crow, with vulture's eyes.

Through schemes and whispers, deals and deeds,
He dances where ambition leads,
A tragedy, yet bold and strong,
In shadowed halls where he belongs.

So, watch him tread this twisted path,
Through webs of spite and Gotham's wrath.
The Penguin - not pure, nor free,
Yet bound to fate eternally.

In shadows deep, his story lies,
A legend birthed beneath gray skies.

Oh, take me back to the velvet night,
Where peace was woven pure and tight.
Those hours held in simple grace,
With no regrets, no need to chase.

Before the tangled webs of thought,
When dreams were simple, unbesought,
And pillows held no secret cries,
Only the softest lullabies.

Take me back to tender years,
Before the haunt of hidden fears,
When stars above would kindly glow,
And let the restless mind let go.

Where every worry fled the scene,
And slumber rose, soft and serene.
I miss the hush, the childlike ease,
A silent drift upon night's breeze.

Now, thoughts unfold in endless scroll,
Whispers deep within the soul.
The mind, a maze, no rest in sight,
Bound tight, unraveling each night.

Take me back to softer lands,
Where calm would hold me by the hand,
And sleep was peace, and dreams were free,
Oh, take me back, take back that me.

Yoga, ancient, sacred, a dance of grace,
A practice woven through time, in every place.
With breaths that rise and fall like the sea,
It roots the soul and sets it free.

Why do I practice? Oh, let me tell,
Of a world within, where stillness dwells.
In the silence of breath, soft as night’s caress,
Yoga draws me near, and I'm one with less,
Less of the worries that cloud my sight,
Less of the burdens that weigh and fight.

In gentle poses, in stilled embrace,
I find the shape of inner space.
In meditative flow, the outer fades,
I drift from the noise and the world’s charades.
Through asanas that open, twist, and bend,
I meet the self, as my truest friend.

Each stretch, a prayer, each pose, a shrine,
To the sacred body and the mind’s design.
And in those moments of pure release,
I uncover my heart, I uncover peace.
Gone are the walls, the restless pace,
I find a sanctuary in time and space.

The sun salutes, the moon bows low,
In this ancient ritual’s steady flow,
I discover wisdom, quiet, deep,
In Yoga’s heart, where secrets sleep.

Why do I practice? To simply be,
To touch the threads of eternity.
It’s more than motion, more than breath,
It’s life within life, and in life, death.

The shedding of layers, to see and to know,
The self beyond what outwardly shows.
I practice Yoga to dance with soul,
To remember myself as whole.

I am the wild arc of the earth's pulse,
untamed breath in the chest of everything,
ancient as stones, fierce as waves in rebellion.
I do not shrink or twist myself thin
for the comfort of lesser horizons,
I am boundless, unruly, rising.

Do not ask the ocean why it carves into cliffs,
or question the mountains as they lean into the sky.
They have earned their expanse,
with rocks and waters kissed by creation,
sighing in silent defiance.
I too am carved from something vast and voracious,
not meant to bow, not made to dissolve.

I shall not bargain for a lesser version of me,
a quieter current, a shadowed peak.
I am that blue abyss, fathoms deep,
where light and darkness make their truce.
I am that towering stone,
etched by storms that refused to relent.

My roots dig deep into the marrow of the earth,
my voice rises like thunder breaking in the hollowed sky.
To be boundless is my right,
to take up my space is my heritage,
to walk unburdened, unapologetic,
a force unmoved by soft-spoken disapproval.

So I declare, with spine straight as mountaintops,
with heart rolling in tides beyond tides:
I am here, irreducible and vast,
and I will not ask permission to exist,
to expand, to stretch, to surge.