Religion was genius,
A system built on brotherhood and loyalty.
Worship was a good idea,
But it was bad to put it in the hands on man.
The broken emotions of mortal ideals,
Took a good thing and destroyed it.

Everything ends,
Debt collected by the light that gave it life.
Not everyone lives past the grave,
Often forgotten, memory slipping away.
I know for certain I will fade,
For that is how it must be.
Do away with my name and virtue,
Let only the raw words stay.
Yet still, when I do die,
I want a cannonade on evil,
And stars falling from the sky.

A soul journeys on.
The mortality of men
breaks a weary heart.

Shadows of formless flames –
silhouettes piercing my vision, through their gaze
of a relentless light. A horn of fire in my hand, I feel the
gusts of smoke-laden, blowing away my once air
filled lungs.

Tender lips brush against my heart,
awakening the remnants of darkness and chill; my spirit
resembles a mere lump of coal. I am the embodiment of love,
inspired by someone else’s dream. I toss a handful of coins
into life's faulty machine—yet another excuse to invest in
faulty dreams.

Battles yield no victors, when wars try to be won
by other wars; love cannot nourish itself if both souls
stand with open arms; one must yield; to surrender —
for even in doing nothing, lies a semblance of peace.

Individual actions act as a lifeline for those around us—
who never know how to love. The flames have scorched
my flesh, leaving blisters, woven into pain— nurse me
with the balm of patience, as every old man confronts
the inevitability of death. The question that haunts us all
is,

when?

Set upon a walk I did,
Through my hometown,
Silent in the cold.

And as I walked as I did,
I passed by such a mortal sight,
A garden dead,
Which once bloomed in twilight.

And shed a tear I did,
Yet of sadness not,
For I know new flowers will bloom again.

Today, September 27th, will have been my father’s 80th birthday. Eighteen years have passed since his departure, yet his memory remains as vibrant as ever. I recall with fondness the countless lessons he imparted, the guidance he offered so effortlessly, and the unwavering integrity he instilled within me.

Though he is no longer physically present, I feel his presence in the values he left behind. His love for his grandchildren was boundless, and they, like me, miss him deeply. As they prepare to become parents themselves, I can’t help but wonder how he would have guided them through this new chapter.

As I approach the age my father was when he passed, I find myself grappling with my mortality. The uncertainty of the future can be overwhelming, and sometimes, it feels like I’m merely going through the motions. Yet, amid this introspection, I find solace in the memories of my father. Every aspect of my life seems to echo his influence, reminding me of the man he was and the legacy he left behind.

Perhaps it is fitting that his memory should be so intertwined with my journey. His love, wisdom, and unwavering spirit continue to guide me, even as I navigate the uncharted waters of my own life. And as I look ahead, I find comfort in the knowledge that his legacy will live on through me and through the generations to come.