They had once promised forever beneath a rain-soaked sky. The memory still clung to her like the scent of petrichor—fresh, intoxicating, impossible to wash away. Years later, the same city seemed sharper, its streets littered with echoes of laughter that wasn’t hers anymore.
Maya sat at the café window where they first met. The chair opposite her was empty, but she still ordered his coffee: two sugars, no cream. She no longer drank hers black; bitterness had become too familiar.
Daniel hadn’t betrayed her with another person—it was time that had stolen him. Slowly, silently, he had drifted. Conversations became logistics, kisses became habits, and their once-shared silence turned into a wall she couldn’t climb. He had left one morning with a gentle finality, saying only, “We stopped being us.”
Now, she watched strangers pass by, couples brushing shoulders and smiling at private jokes. She wondered if anyone noticed how fragile love really was—not shattered by storms, but eroded by the steady drip of indifference.
Her phone buzzed. It was him. Just two words: “How are you?”
She typed back, “Fine.” Then she deleted it. For the first time, she let the silence answer for her.-
Saw the first ray of the sun
on thirty first of July, nineteen ninety-one
Love to e... read more
Echoes of Being
We walk on roads that vanish fast,
Each moment born, yet none will last.
The stone we lift, the dream we keep,
All drift into a nameless sleep.
The self we guard is but a flame,
It flickers, yet it has no name.
The truth we seek, both far and near,
Is clothed in silence we can’t hear.
What is the sky but endless thought?
What is the life that time has wrought?
The river bends, the mountain stays,
Both vanish in eternity’s haze.
We ask, yet answers slip away,
Like shadows losing shape in day.
Still meaning grows in fleeting breath,
A dialogue of life and death.
Perhaps the question is the key:
To wonder is what sets us free.-
Adversity
The storm does not ask if the branch will break,
It bends the tree to test what roots can take.
A stone in the path halts the hurried feet,
Yet teaches the step where the ground is fleet.
The flame that burns low still learns to glow,
From shadows, the brightest of visions grow.
The mountain is high, the air is thin,
But struggle carves strength in the bone and skin.
A wound will sting, but the scar will sing,
Of battles endured, of winters and spring.
Adversity whispers, harsh and cold,
But patience turns iron into gold.
The river cuts stone with a gentle hand,
Reminding the soul how to stand.
When walls enclose and the night feels long,
Resilience rises, steady and strong.
The burden may bend but will not destroy,
For out of the trial is born a new joy.-
The Soul’s Equation
The body is clay, yet it dreams of flame,
The soul is nameless, yet it seeks a name.
Time is a circle that bends into breath,
Life is a wager we gamble with death.
The stars are lanterns hung over the void,
Their fires eternal, yet swiftly destroyed.
Each thought is a stone in an unseen stream,
Each silence a kingdom, each word a dream.
The self is a mirror reflecting the sky,
But who is the seer within the eye?
Love is an arrow that pierces the bone,
Yet binds two shadows to make them one.
The heart is a chamber where echoes remain,
Carved by both rapture and carved by pain.
The world is a riddle, a ciphered scroll,
Read by the body, solved by the soul.
I wander its script with a pilgrim’s hand,
Tracing the letters I half understand.-
Beneath the dawn, the valley wakes in song,
A river hums where silver currents throng.
The mountains wear their crowns of misty lace,
And sunlight spills with gentle, golden grace.
The forest whispers secrets to the breeze,
Its green cathedral sways with ancient ease.
A wildflower bends to drink the morning rain,
Yet rises proud, unbroken, free of pain.
The meadow glows with threads of emerald fire,
A woven quilt of color to inspire.
The skylark lifts its hymn into the blue,
Each note a prayer the heavens carry through.
The sea, unending, shimmers into light,
Its restless heart both fierce and infinite.
The desert blooms with patience, bold and rare,
A lesson carved in silence, sun, and air.
In every curve the earth becomes a shrine,
A living art, eternal and divine.-
Beneath the moon’s unblinking eye,
A shadow drifts where secrets lie.
The forest whispers, hushed and deep,
Guarding truths it swears to keep.
A lantern flickers, faint with doubt,
Paths appear, then fade about.
An unseen hand may guide the way,
Or lure the wanderer astray.
The silence hums with hidden breath,
A song of life, a hint of death.
Footsteps echo, soft yet near,
Each beat a rhythm born of fear.
The stars themselves seem veiled in smoke,
Their language lost, their symbols broke.
Time bends, folds, and will not speak,
Its face concealed, its center bleak.
Mystery waits in every stone,
Promising all, revealing none.-
Ode to Dawn
O radiant herald, bearer of the sky,
Thy golden fingers wake the dreaming earth;
Through folded mists the mountain whispers high,
And rivers gleam with hymns of secret birth.
O tender Dawn, thou sovereign of light,
Unveiling silence with thy crimson flame,
Thou shatterest the lingering reign of night,
And set the soul aloft, no more the same.
The birds, thy courtiers, raise their morning song,
Each trembling note a jewel in thy crown;
The fields, long shadowed, wait to sing along,
Their emerald robes all bright with dewdrops down.
O dawn, thou painter on the canvas vast,
With strokes of rose and amber, pure and free,
Each moment fleeting, yet too sweet to last,
Thy hand engraves eternity in me.
Awake, O heart, receive thy living fire,
For dawn is promise, and the world desire.-
Atmosphere
A veil unseen, yet always near,
The tender breath we hold so dear.
It wraps the world in shifting blue,
A cradle vast, both old and new.
It hums in whispers through the trees,
Carries the fragrance of distant seas.
In dawn’s first blush, it paints the sky,
At dusk it dims with a gentle sigh.
Storm and calm within it live,
Both fury fierce and gift to give.
It shields the earth from fire above,
A fragile dome, yet strong with love.
Birds take flight on its unseen streams,
Clouds drift softly with quiet dreams.
We breathe, we sing, because it stays,
Binding the night to radiant days.
A guardian vast, yet light as air,
The atmosphere holds us with care.-
The Light of Letters
Across the earth, in shadowed lands,
A silent hunger folds its hands;
Not hunger for bread, nor thirst for rain,
But for the words that ease the brain.
A book unopened is a sealed gate,
A dream deferred, a lingering fate;
Yet one small spark of written fire
Can lift the heart, can lift it higher.
The alphabet, a humble key,
Unlocks the chains of poverty;
From child to elder, voice to voice,
Literacy grants the power of choice.
No tower stands without its stone,
No mind can grow if left alone;
Teach one to read, and you ignite
A dawn that turns the dark to light.
So let the letters bloom and flow,
Across all nations, let them grow;
For every soul deserves to see
The endless sky of literacy.-