Category: #Poetry
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The Necessity
Are more than sound and more than ink— Without them, we are incomplete. Until we find the words to think, We need words like we need breathing.
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Mirror, Mirror
Words are mirrors that don’t lie about our beauty, they show us the scars that make us luminous, the cracks where light enters us.
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Words
Write yourself into existence. Speak yourself into being. The world is waiting for your words, the ones that only you can give.
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The Wine of Small Moments: A Meditation on Joy
I have discovered the secret tavern where joy serves itself in cups so small they fit in the palm of an ordinary Tuesday morning. The Beloved whispers through steam rising from my coffee cup: “See how the cream spirals inward, creating galaxies in your ceramic universe? This is how I dance through your bloodstream, this…
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The Beautiful Confusion
it’s already elsewhere, hiding in the spaces between understanding and wonder
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Joy in Fragments
Steam rises from tea—the first sip holds yesterday’s worries, then lets go… A puddle mirrors the sky after sudden rain, and I pause to see myself floating among clouds—this accidental heaven… Joy arrives quietly, not in grand gestures but in the space between one breath and the next—this moment, given freely.
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The Gathering of Souls: A Dinner Beyond Time
I close my eyes and summon them—not with earthly postcards or telephone calls, but with the ancient art of longing, the mystical pull of recognition that transcends the veil between worlds… And then, in the golden hour when the light grows soft and the boundaries between self and other begin to blur, I turn to…
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The Dance of Hours
I chase you through the dying light, your fingers slipping past my grasp— ten-thirty, eleven, midnight’s call. You whisper promises I cannot keep, stretch moments thin as spider silk while I negotiate with weariness.
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Two Souls, One Rhythm
She steps into morning light, barefoot on dew-kissed grass, while I pull curtains closed against the eager sun. Coffee steams beside my book, pages turning like seasons—you would think we’re worlds apart, but watch how spring unfolds between her wandering and my witnessing…
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What Is Your Favorite Genre of Music?
You ask me this question like it’s simple, like the heart has drawers labeled jazz, rock, classical, like the soul keeps neat little categories for the sounds that make us human. But I tell you—music doesn’t live in genres, it lives in the space between your ribs when that first note hits…
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