Though the world may rage,
like gilded nightingales caught in a cage,
our souls can still sing softly.

The earth may crack with no footfall to faucet,
the fault doesn't always fall with the wind,
sometimes, the storm begins within.

This is why the search begins,
beneath the surface, where the silence knows our name,
where the echoes go to live.

the mirrorless child sits alone
wondering which truth is their own
for they were not taught of twists and plots
or shown visions of their own worth
comfort zones aren't made of heroes
who you become is not your reflection
which holds the truth
but the devil has his own house of mirrors
and I wouldn't dare to enter

we all want to love
and be loved

the right way

Every poem is a new world
where wonder and beauty richly unfurl

If you ever wander into an uncut forest,
pause think of the future,
for it is no different from that forest.

It’s a simple truth, quietly philosophical.

Sharp stones and thorns
may not please us,
but on life’s path,
they are unavoidable.

The mind seeks training:
to adapt, to merge,
to express strength
in subtle details.

And when we begin again,
to ask why we exist,
the answer comes
as if from a simplified lesson.

Yet the true meaning lies
in facing the obstacle,
and each lesson,
in the end,
is perfect philosophy.