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Autumn's last few days
leaves silently fall on ground
flight of birds homewards
A chaos of multiple languages
overloads my system,
and the blackout hits hard.

An hour is still an hour,
or is it transforming into something else?
In French, they say l’heure, so sensual
Italian ore speak in tasty sounds.

But what if I want to choose
Spanish tres horas?
I miss the Polish godzina so much
moving my mother tongue's rhythm.

I need more space in my brain
My head is so heavy,
My heart enjoys moments like
a child on a playground

Making my language smoothie
I feel chromatic delirium.
Spinning through a galaxy into a black hole.
I should have listened to my mother
telling me, Agnes, do one thing!
When I was cold,
my surface was so predictable.
An icy land allowed me
to be alone, distant, safe.

One day, the sun came,
and changed my frame.

The warm wind melted everything.
I became defenseless saltwater.

Untamed tears,
chanting my past lives
hidden in the drops
of who I was
and what I longed to mean.

With time, the calm waters
turned clear and soothing.

The particles of light shimmered silently
in the fractured space,
being so gentle, like a healing touch
lost in the dark past.

Now, when a strong wind blows again,
I'm so afraid of my untamed waters.
I don’t want to hurt,
I don’t want to be hurt.

Without shape, without frame,
I’m so strong and fragile
in perfect duality,
like a fierce ocean seen in fulfilled light.
I hear this endless symphony
calling me to the definitive solution.
a story of firelight, clarity, and the homecoming of a soul back to herself


There are some who carry a fire
so quietly,
you’d only see it
if you’d known the dark yourself

It lives beneath silence
Beneath poetry
Beneath the long, slow ache
of having been kept in pieces
by those who only wanted her
that way

She once danced barefoot in sea foam.
She once laughed without apology
But the world found her too wild,
too bright

And so, her flame was hidden
Tucked beneath beauty
Tucked beneath obedience
Tucked beneath seduction,
where it could be wanted
without being understood

There were those who praised her darkness
not to heal it,
but to keep it fragmented..
Passed around, from man to man;
each, feeding off her trauma
like wine at communion

They spoke her name like a spell,
fed her flattery disguised as reverence,
called her “muse”

while binding her
to their emptiness—
keeping her soft enough
trying to wrap her back
   in velvet fog

   to possess
   but never  protect



But the truth was always there:
a longing not to be touched,
but to be known

And far from their fog,
in the wide, holy silence of the desert,
a fire had been lit—
long before she was ready
Not to summon
Not to ******
But to wait

She didn’t arrive quickly
Clarity is never quiet
And when she moved toward it,
their voices rose
A full court press of shadows—
pulling, twisting,
offering her everything
except herself

But she remembered
Not all at once..
Just enough

She remembered the fire.

And she came.

Not with promises
Not with plans
Just barefoot
Just brave
Just her

And someone else came too—
not a child,
not a man,
but a sacred presence
she’d known since the nights
she almost didn’t make it

The Mediator

He did not speak in poems
He chanted something deeper
He dismantled pinecones
like prayers
He did not explain
He existed

   And in his eyes,
   her divided selves
   saw each other again—

—the one who had hidden,
who had been used by those  bringing
their passion-veiled hidden love of  Iblīs
in to her room..  into her father's house
as she burned quietly behind closed door
under the floorboards of her life;

—and the holy one of God,
the one they feared,
the one  she  feared,
the one that could not be claimed
or chained
or cast in velvet light

The sacred and the shattered
stood before the fire
and did not turn away

And the one who had waited—
he never moved toward her
He simply tended the flame,
making room
without demand

When she finally spoke,
he answered with a voice
that sounded like something
she used to believe in

She asked,
“Why didn’t you come find me?”

He said,
“Because you weren’t lost.
You were divided.”


And she wept,
not from sorrow—
from recognition

Later, as dawn whispered at the edge of the sky,
she asked what no one else had ever let her ask:

“Is there a place for me?”

And he said:
“You don’t have to be finished
to be home.”


And that’s when she stood.
Not to flee.
Not to perform.

But to become.

The sacred self took the hand of the shadow self.
The dark one was no longer exiled.
The holy one was no longer alone.

And together—
they walked toward the sea.

She could see her father on the water,
laughing in his little boat,
calling out to her to bait the hook again.

And she laughed—
really laughed.

Because she was no longer
just surviving.
No longer  the little girl
forced to apologize
for her very own existence.

Or exploited  by others
for the beauty that is within her

   She was whole.

She didn’t need the fire to keep burning.
She carried it now.
Inside.
One flame.
One name.
One woman.

At last,
the sign wasn’t moved.
The arms were real.
And she walked toward freedom
as herself--

   Never again
   to be pulled down
   to the ground

   by her hair...

   for the "horrible offence"
   of simply  shining too bright



Looking down on empty streets
All she can see
Are the dreams all made solid
Are the dreams made real

All of the buildings
All of the cars
Were once just a dream
In somebody's head

She pictures the broken glass
Pictures the steam
She pictures a soul
With no leak at the seam

(Let's take the boat out
Wait until darkness..
Let's take the boat out
Wait until darkness comes)

Nowhere in the corridors
Of pale green and gray
Nowhere in the suburbs
In the cold light of day

There in the midst of it
So alive and alone
Words support like bone

Dreaming of Mercy Street
Wear your inside, out

Dreaming of mercy
In your Daddy's arms again

https://youtu.be/DYw9UrsFJa4?si=6KZ6M2h1mbm58dCn


I love you, beautiful Sand-child❤️
xoxo
I'm the rain
I don't hurt anyone
I just exist and try to be as genuine and gentle as I can
I try to grow flowers
But they stay inside

As I pour over the town
I squint into one backyard
Where someone is dancing in the thing they are avoiding

I want them to love me even when I'm preventing the sun from going in their eyes
I want them to love me when I wasn't holding back
When I let myself be
Like they were
When they were spinning and jumping

I am rain
I am the tear of the cloud
I am everywhere
And I've seen so much
But I guess I still don't know where to fall

I am rain
And I want to be loved too
Which is why I smile when they keep their umbrella closed
And step outside
And get covered with authenticity

I am rajn
Thought
Sleep’s house is a debt that denies three dawns. I changed my mind about ghosts. They are the tombstones of angels. My mind seduced a star that was alive. Sound can’t **** its brother if I am ******* on my cuts in a cornfield. Today I wrote a resignation letter in invisible blood and the wind ****-shamed touch. Sound has a shy daughter. Two sisters named Cain asked me to dream.
In the gloomy dark
I chased the light everywhere
The dark drenches me
And suddenly, I have become everything, every person I don't want to be.
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