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 Jan 30 Daniel
Pax
Abstract
 Jan 30 Daniel
Pax
only a few can see
appreciation of its beauty
unseen to most
to where it hides
its truth without a cost.
And how much is art really worth?
Two decades and a year
I come back to Darjeeling.

The blaring horns
have snuffed out
the pines' whispers,

and the glorious hilltops
retreat beyond
the many hilltop hotels.

Richmond hill is rich
with structures
that have made men richer
and traders have ensured
Nature here has no future.

The once magnificent Mall
has grown so small
you wonder if it's there
you laid your soul bare
to the woman of your love.

Darjeeling,
once where
she rode a wild horse
I would never come back.

And I will have no remorse.
 Jan 30 Daniel
Nemusa
Ready to shock unconscious—
a scream locked in my chest,
a storm swirling where love should have been.
Forsaken.
Forgotten.
Black wings fold tight against my eyes,
dragging me to the place
where breath turns to silence,
and hearts go to break.

If you had an inkling,
even the faintest whisper
that I existed,
why didn’t you look for me?
Why didn’t you fight the tide,
pull me from the hollow space
where I learned to disappear?

Why was I the one who searched,
who fought,
embarrassing myself
for your love?
I stood in the open,
raw,
bleeding,
hands stretched toward a ghost
that never turned back.

I wasn’t a black hole,
wasn’t an absence.
I was flesh,
I was blood,
I was here.

Maybe we could have danced in the light,
or I could have played tag
with your sons in the long grass.
But instead,
I became the shadow
you refused to see.

And now that it’s all been said and done,
the bitter truth cuts deeper—
it turns out
I’m the one who resembles you the most.

Half my life
I wandered,
seeking a name
that could fit into my chest.
Yours.
Mine.
Ours.

But you never came.
The silence stayed.
And black wings
are all that’s left to hold me.
Well very personal to cut a long story short, I never knew my biological father till I was in my 20s my mother never wanted to tell me who he was but when she finally did and I approached him, he said he had suspected she was pregnant with his child. Since I've been in a thoughtful place I've been wondering why was I the only one searching for him, why didn't he fight for me, was I so extra to everyone...ma nafx għajjejt naħseb...it actually turned out that I really resemble him in many ways, I feel I lost so much at such an important time in my life.
 Jan 30 Daniel
Nemusa
skeleton leaf rests,

veins trace whispers of autumn,

time pressed between lines.
A special bookmark I have.
 Jan 30 Daniel
Nemusa
Submerged beneath the lake’s golden iris,
her body drifted in surrender,
listening to the music of the universe
spilling its secrets into her veins.
The bird of paradise rose in silhouette,
its plumage a fleeting memory,
like the faces of past lovers
blurring into the haze of confusion.

The hills, black and steady,
stood watch over her solitude.
Their silence mocked her shame,
woven like a spider’s web,
each thread a detail she could not undo.
The lacework of her thoughts—delicate,
but broken—
postponed the weight of reality
for another breath,
another ripple of escape.

This was her last resort,
a refuge abandoned to the wind,
to the flight of birds
and the courage of stillness.
She swam deeper,
chasing the reflection she longed to become,
never wanting to be found.
To a prosperous week ahead ❣️
 Jan 30 Daniel
Nemusa
She breathes in a room humming with life,
a fragile song, not loud but steady,
a bridge between two worlds I can’t yet cross.
The air smells like morning,
crisp, new,
the kind of scent that cradles hope in its arms.

I drive to the beach,
rain dancing on the windshield,
weaving patterns that feel like promises.
The sand is cool beneath my feet,
the kind of cool that wakes you up
and whispers, you’re alive.

I pick up a stone—
smooth, enduring, timeless—
and toss it into the ocean.
The splash feels like a spark,
a seed of something unseen
but waiting to bloom.

Back home, her letters spill across the table,
ink alive on paper,
strokes of dreams I hadn’t known.
Friends I wish I’d met,
questions that feel less like fear now
and more like paths still open.

It feels like lighting a candle,
not the flame,
but the glow that follows,
where everything softens,
and even shadows turn kind.

In her story, there is a kiss,
but it’s not a prince—it’s the sky,
a quiet reunion between breath and stars,
a tide that always finds its shore.
The wind carries her voice,
not lost, but endless,
folding into the waves’ rhythm.

I sit in the car,
watching raindrops glide like silver threads.
Each one falls,
joins,
becomes part of something greater.
And I know I’ll keep walking with her,
not waiting,
but living—
in this space between waves.
 Jan 30 Daniel
Nemusa
Divers plunge into the ocean of my soul,
sifting through fragments of joy,
shards of laughter,
a mosaic of moments bathed in light.

Love, a blinding star,
grief, its shadow trailing behind,
the death of time unfolds silently,
second after second slipping into the abyss.

Tears carve rivers on my cheeks,
their currents whisper truths
I cannot name but feel—
bittersweet, an ache that sings.

I hold this hurt tenderly,
a fragile treasure,
and wouldn’t trade it for emptiness.

Still, I stretch toward the light,
my fingers brushing
the edges of something infinite,
a hope shimmering beyond the waves.
BLT word challenge "divers".
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