@Jess,
"The greatest one I bear now,
making me die a little each day,
is that I let you go, not knowing,
leaving was a decision you'd regret."
You, with your raw, poignant words,
captured the agony of unspoken goodbyes,
painting the ache of regret like a timeless portrait.
In your verse, I hear the soul's deepest cry,
yet in your strength, there’s also light.

@Anais Vionet,
"I am the wind, the desert breeze,
the ocean spray and rustling leaves."
You, like the wind, slip through every thought,
a breath of freedom captured in verse,
unstoppable, untamed. Your lines dance
like whispers of the sea,
speaking of transformation, beauty, and loss.

@Shane Michael Stoops,
"46 years,
What do you get,
Your way past old,
Your pants don’t seem to fit"
You embrace the passage of time,
showing us the strength in weariness,
the humor in change. Your words,
like a hearty laugh, echo through life's stages,
reminding us that every line of life is worth reading.

@CJ Sutherland,
"eye now know
the how, when, where and the-why,
my Eyes compose this elegy
memories of past and present... blending into memories of future happenstance."
Your poetry is a mosaic of time,
where past, present, and future coexist,
and each word is a step toward discovery.
Your mind is both a mirror and a window,
reflecting and shaping the world.

@Shane Michael Stoops (again),
"We danced in the rain,
Laughing away so much pain."
Your words hold an unspoken promise,
the joy of dancing in the face of sorrow.
In your poems, there is an invitation to release,
to shed our fears and allow laughter to heal.
You teach us that pain and joy can coexist.

@Jess (again),
"I hardly understand the ticking of the clock,
trying hard to go through each day."
The ticking of your verse carries the weight
of endless hours and endless thoughts.
In your words, I hear the struggle of time
and the ache of waiting for solace.
But there's grace in your journey—
and your courage leaves a lasting mark.

@Anais Vionet (again),
"What is chosen is believed,
though the choices are presented—
I choose among the sacrificial burnt offerings."
You have a way of breaking down complexity
with a single line, weaving the eternal truth
into a delicate, yet unapologetically bold choice.
Your words cut to the heart,
unraveling mysteries with elegance and resolve.

A dead soul matters the most,
as there's no one else that
can force you preserve and cherish memories better and truthfuly.

You hesitate to erase them.
Even if you lack the visuals,
you'd create some mirage joining the
missed and uncovered notes.
You'd tell stories from the
almost unexisting backyard of your mind and with all the more excitement,
which probably you never shared,
when they were still breathing.

Those you plan on to create,
have the spark of undefined.
You might surpass undefined,
that'd be the extent of your love.

If dead man looks back,
he'd be proud and smiling,
You think alike those irrational dreamers.
Don't you ?
You talked about existentialism and vagueness in things like how
intransient life and death embrace closely,
with warmth and shivering pain.
Times when you had cease to exist
you'd not think about them
and they may not recall you anymore.

Perhaps everything beyond life is irrational, sliding the thoughts in your
subconscious carefully,
not with a hint of expressing the urge of exploring.
The taboo between you and them
why not in life you seek the same comfort
of randomness,
you wish but you fail to organise the terms
And patterns.

Just now I think what a corpse would feel when it reads my Art, probably
The dead man Smiles back and says
"I may fade with time,
my flesh may blend with soil
but I keep on living with those who know my story ".