Be a bird even if not heard
Be the light even in the night
Be alone even on your own
Be bright even if not right
Be simple even in the jungle
Be butterfly even when hard to fly
Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 11:11 AM UTC
Greek god Apollo
Of archery and healing
Poetry and songs
His sun chariot
Shines flaming with rays of light
Ignites the blue sky
The god's golden lyre
Ethereal melodies
Sound as each string's plucked
His arrow flies true
Shot straight from the golden bow
Apollo doesn't miss
His wise Oracle
Sits on the seat at Delphi
Giving good counsel
His loyal children
Blessed with sight and healing gifts
Bring him much honor
The Greek marble gleams
As sculptors try to capture
The god Apollo
Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 11:06 AM UTC
Some sounds do not belong to instruments.
They live just after.
Or just before.
The echo the piano makes when no one is touching it.
The hum of a string not struck
but shaken by something nearby.
The part of a voice
when the singer forgets they’re being heard.
Sometimes the most important sound
is the one that wasn’t played
but was felt
in the hand that almost moved.
There is a kind of music
that only exists
inside the listener.
I’ve heard more truth
in the seconds between chords
than in the chords themselves.
Because those seconds
aren’t performed
they leak.
And maybe that’s where the music
stops pretending
and becomes real.
Aug 4, 2025
Aug 4, 2025 at 11:32 PM UTC
I write on paper,
A lot more,
Since the last six months,
It feels better,
Than staring down a screen,
Where I tie my artistry,
To the last echoing words,
I wish I let them pull me out,
Of all this,
Much sooner.
Aug 4, 2025
Aug 4, 2025 at 11:21 PM UTC
Be strong and have courage
Soar among the stars
For you have a purpose
Be as bright as a wildfire
This is a message
For the damaged
For the broken
Even with your wreckage
God will help you to be outspoken
Be brave and kind
Be a light in the dark
Let your light shine
Be the spark
Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 6:04 AM UTC
I slump into an armchair
Feet drooping down
And sprawl onto the carpet
Watch the dust float around
I have no place to go
Nothing to do
No faces to see
Nothing is new
Boredom is as human does
Sun wearily crosses the sky above
I'm stuck with a fly and a ticking clock
Too leaden to move, much less to walk
And even the aforementioned dust
Has more to do than I.
Jun 25, 2025
Jun 25, 2025 at 12:40 AM UTC
Maybe in another universe
I wouldn't be so sensitive
I wouldn't be so emotionally dependent
I wouldn't take everything to heart
I wouldn't minimize my feelings
And i wouldn't lose myself
Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 10:54 PM UTC
There's something in the air
That makes me feel like I've been here before
The birds chirping
The sun disappearing and reappearing behind fluffy white clouds
The soft breeze
The heat
I've lived this summer before
Maybe in a different universe,
Another life time,
Or a dream...
Maybe I'm still asleep
Jun 23, 2025
Jun 23, 2025 at 3:49 AM UTC