Lying down under this beautiful starry night
Fills me with a quiet kind of happiness.
Alone on this silent hilltop,
A glowing lantern beside me,
My favorite book in hand —
It’s the scene I always dreamt of.
For once,
I’ve stepped away —
From responsibilities,
From the noisy world,
From people and their expectations.
Here I am,
Feeling the warmth of the lantern’s light,
Letting it remind me
That a simple, peaceful life is still possible.
This silence.
This natural breeze.
This soft glow.
This time with myself —
It’s all I need right now,
To hope again.

make the art you search for
the kind of art
you never find
but always feel.

the kind that
holds your hurt
without asking a million times,
"why?"
the kind that feels
like being seen.

and maybe it's not out there
because it's waiting
for you
to create it.

I wonder–

Will a world full of poets
Be happy
or sad.

You breathe,
and the world shifts.

Not in earthquakes or avalanches,
but in the soft tremors
of someone watching you smile
and deciding to stay
one more day.

You pass a stranger,
and they carry your laughter
into a room
that was too quiet
until you echoed there.

We don’t notice
how much we bleed into each other.
in glances,
in silences,
in words we don’t remember saying
but someone else never forgets.

A comment tossed off
in boredom
becomes a bruise
on someone else’s skin.
A simple “you okay?”
becomes the thread
someone clings to
when they’re unraveling.

We are not islands.
We are oceans.
waves crashing into waves,
pulling and pushing,
changing tides
without even knowing.

So be kind.
Or at least,
be aware.

Because whether you mean to or not,
you leave something
in everyone you touch.

And they leave something in you.

We’re not just living our lives.
we’re shaping them
together.