No more shall I seek to linger on the silken loop of stars,
Nor will I play at dice in the moonlit, burning woods.
"Let it remain unsung"—the cuckoo’s sweet and lilting refrain;
Lend me but a fleeting shadow to soothe my weary soul.

At dawn’s tender crack, I will wander to the edge of the fading night,
Where the first light spills gently through its shimmering seam.
And though the day may falter, and twilight weep its soft return,
Grant me but a shade beneath the mole of your verdant grove.

This moment now under a starry night
Bathed in the soft glow of firelight
Slightly cool air brings the scent of flowers
Time stands still and minutes are as hours
Nature comes to life in praise of your name
As I lift my eyes to profess the same

Can you untie
the knots—
when nothing’s broken?

Everything lingers,
still,
held in deep slumber.

And then it arrives:
the rains of July,
shattering silence,
demanding reckoning.

Has it come to this?
Seas unraveling,
moons collapsing,
the sun rising
to an empty bed.

Has it drifted so far?
Rivers swallowed by dust,
mountains falling to ash,
no one left
to witness
the purple skies.

A solitary world,
silent,
its shadows long,
waiting
to be forgotten.

only things true
are love and death
and loveless people don't die
they simply disappear

grief isn't sadness
grief isn't pain
grief isn't something
that words can explain

grief is an ocean
grief is a flood
grief is like having
your feet stuck in mud

yet grief is a stronghold
grief is a rope
grief holds onto you
when life's lost all hope

grief means it happened
grief shows it was here
grief is the proof
that love's never fair