It’s me again, staring you down,
Blank as silence, soft as frown.
Do I leave you bare or bleed my soul,
Love, loss, passion, all I hold?

Will someone find you, read me whole?
Or leave us lost between the fold?
Filled or not, you know me best,
You are my chaos and my rest….

-

Draped in green
like monsoon dreams,
She walks, not waiting,
nor stitched in seams
Of memory’s fading silhouette
She’s no echo you might forget.

Not hiding in the folds of thought,
Not tethered to the love you sought.
She doesn’t linger in your skies,
Or wear your name behind her eyes.

Yet still, if you dare to see,
You might find where she could be.
Not in the past, but in her grace,
Alive, alight, in her own space.

-

It’s how you show it..
Every single day.

-

To live is to root in the soil of now,
and grow toward the light.

-

Love, let me go—
From your thoughts where I softly grow,
From your arms that once held tight
The echoes of my fading light.
Let me go from the warmth I knew,
From your gaze that still sees through,
And the scent of me still in the air.
Let me go… to come once more,
Not at your door, but in your core
In your breath, your pulse, your grace
Where love begins again…

-

No stream rewinds, no tide turns back,
Time flows forward, unbroken, vast.
What was, remains—a faded track,
Unchanged, unclaimed, yet not alone.

-

You are the rose,
and I, its lingering scent
Intangible,
yet endlessly with you.

-

So I rest— not to surrender,
but to gather the whispers of the wind.
I hide— not to ponder,
but to feel the hush where echoes begin.

No closures defined, no chapters undone.
Yet in you, I settle, weightless, free,
sealed in divine grace,
where I am meant to be.
Sealed in you…

-

Up the hill, the boulder rolls,
A fate decreed by distant souls.
Yet still he climbs, with steady grace,
No hint of sorrow on his face.
They call it curse, a task in vain,
An endless loop of toil and pain.
But Sisyphus, in secret, knows—
The meaning of life is the life we impose.
Not in the summit, nor in the fall,
But in the struggle, he finds it all.
Each step, a choice, each breath, a spark,
To push self is to light the dark.

-

Sliver cosmic threads,
They shimmer through screens, soft and unseen,
threaded by silent rhythms,
carried by open eye-dreams.
A spark in the dark, a voice without face,
a presence that dwells in digital space.
Like letters adrift in bottles of glass,
floating through oceans of data so vast.
Some fade like echoes, brief and bright,
others endure a guiding star,
A friend for life.

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