We walk each day
on cobblestone mornings and dust-road dusk,
navigating roads both winding and narrow,
barefoot on thornpath,
laughing through lungfuls of sunlight,
not knowing the storm waits for us
just beyond the turning.

Sometimes the climb is breathless and weary.
Knees buckle on gravel-wounds.
Hearts stretch across silence-heavy hills
where even the sky forgets to speak.

But then, then
a breeze, a simple song in the air,
a bird-note flickering through fogglass.
Someone’s hand, warm on our shoulderblade.
A word of encouragement.
And joy returns like a hush breaking open.

Don’t take it for granted, dear friend:
the soft-spoken tea,
the way a child says your name,
the sun threading gold through kitchen blinds.
After warmth, the weeping comes.
After the dance, the ache.

This is life’s rhythm
storm-song, stillness, sunfire, ash.
Each season a lesson etched
in wind-script and worn-shoe truths.

Be thankful when the road smiles on you.
Drink from the clear moment fully.
But do not curse the falling rain
it washes, it shapes, it teaches, it renews.
It molds us into river-stone grace.

If you chase only firework-miracles,
you’ll miss the quiet bloom
of the reddest rose in cracked cement.
You’ll overlook the miracle of breath,
the mercy in a stranger’s nod,
the gift of just one more mile.

So walk on.
Stride slow.
The path is honest, even when it’s cruel.
No season, no sorrow, no laughter
ever stays.
All will pass.

And life?
Life is the footsteps we leave quietly in the storm.

Night spreads its dark wings
on a faint path upwards.
Steps climb toward the dark.
The secret cave of the heart
reveals its magic to the dreamer.
Its sapphire mist veils the fikir’s
lamp within.

Along the path the ancient oak’s
strudy branches remain still.
This mountain is a place of silence
where worldly sounds fade to
ghostly whispers.

Here one enters the mist alone
far from the stirring of moonlit
wings. Searching among a thousand
clouds in the half-lightof the unanswered
question : where is eternity along the path
unknown and the courage to search
beyond reality ?

Lying in the dark
16 year old girl
Many years ago
Holding a portable radio
To ones ear
Listening to music
Rocking to the beat
Imagining far away places
Feet moving to the beat
Eyes closed
Letting the clouds of sleep
Approach as I listen to the
radio
Rockin to the beat
In the darkness

A brain
Beating heart
Breathing lungs
Expelling excretory
A couple o thumbs
Chemicals
To grow
To heal
All tied together
Apparently real
So where do you sit
Within the vehicle?
What makes you
You?
What Are you in principle?
Virtually all you are
Is automatic
Your essence
Lies between
The static.

Real knowledge lives where ignorance admits its name,
and when we meet the crooked path,
we turn within—not to condemn,
but to understand what bends in us.

He who learns without thought is a leaf on water,
and he who thinks, yet never learns,
builds castles on sand in a windstorm.
So begin with small stones
even mountains yield to patient hands.

The superior man speaks less than he does,
his courage not in clamor,
but in silent choice:
to do what is right, though comfort pleads otherwise.
He harms no one with desires he would not endure.

He walks slow, but he walks still.

Respect begins within
a flame that lights the eyes of others.
Revenge sharpens two shovels.
Sincerity, faithfulness
these are not ornaments, but foundations,
like stone under a trembling house.

Let the nation rise from the hearth
not from war cries, but from warmth.

Education births confidence.
Confidence lifts hope.
Hope sows peace like a quiet farmer.
And if a man errs, then smiles,
yet does not mend it
he stumbles twice, but calls it dance.

Wisdom comes in threes:
Reflection, which sees with stillness.
Imitation, which echoes.
And Experience
which carves its lessons into the skin.

He who fishes in another man’s well
often catches *****
yet still acts surprised when it itches.

Man who asks a question may sound stupid for a minute,
but the quiet one?
He stays stupid forever,
and probably votes.

Without respect,
man is just a loud ape with Wi-Fi,
grunting opinions and sharing memes,
swiping left on self-awareness.

Man with hand in pocket
feels cocky all day
but try shaking hands with that guy.
Confidence smells funny.

Man running in front of car gets tired.
Man behind car gets exhausted.
Doesn’t matter—both end up roadkill
on the highway to nowhere.

Wise man avoids argument.
Smarter man just watches you lose yours
with popcorn and a smug nod.

Man who stands on toilet
is high on ***
a true philosopher,
contemplating the flush.

Man who wants everything
ends up with nothing
and a storage bill full of regrets
he pays in monthly installments.

He who laughs last
didn’t get the joke until later
but don’t worry,
he’ll still explain it.

Man who walks middle of road
gets hit from both sides.
Diplomacy is great until the trucks come.

Life is simple:
ignore advice,
repeat mistakes,
blame the stars
or your horoscope.

Man who points finger
forgets three more point back
unless he’s holding a beer.
Then he points with the bottle
and lectures you on failure.

Wise man says little.
Dumb man says it louder.
And louder.
And still doesn’t know he’s wrong.

Man who chases two rabbits
ends up eating instant noodles
alone, in sweatpants,
wondering where it all went wrong.

Conclusion:

"Take joke seriously,
but not yourself."