Beneath the twilight’s tender glow,
A melody drifts where soft winds go.
Once vibrant notes, now whispers low,
Of times and dreams from long ago.

A fleeting strain, a lover’s sigh,
A waltz beneath a starry sky.
Its rhythm danced through hearts so near,
Now fades to shadows we barely hear.

The keys once struck with fervent grace,
Now linger, lost, in time’s embrace.
Yet in the stillness, faint and true,
The echoes hum their mournful cue.

Oh, song of yore, where do you lie?
In whispers soft, or the weeping sky?
Perhaps within a heart’s deep sea,
Still blooms your haunting melody.

Though time may dull and mem’ries wane,
Your tune forever will remain—
An echo laced with joy and pain,
A song that sings of love’s refrain.

This latter stage of life unfolds—  
so distant now from dreams once gold.  
Each sunset sinks, each storm is crossed,  
and whispers still of Loved and Lost.  

The days ahead, though yet unwritten,  
hold no warmth, no solace given.  
I stand beneath the waning sun,  
and find no comfort—  
there is none.

In the recent months, I have been reflecting on letting go of someone I loved deeply and how it has been both a challenge and a gift. Though we didn’t share a long history, our connection felt like a rare, enduring bond that had felt like a lifetime of passion and care. In that brief time, I felt truly seen and accepted in a way that gave me hope, as if a new world had opened. Now, in releasing that dream, I’ve come to see that each relationship, whether brief or lasting; has shaped my understanding of how I wish to love and be loved.

Throughout my dating journey, I’ve met incredible people. Each connection has offered unique lessons, insights, and reflections of who I am and who I want to become. There’s a richness to those experiences, even when they don’t lead to lasting partnership. They remind me of the qualities I admire in others and in myself; the qualities that, with time, will align in a way that feels right. Rather than giving up on finding love, I see these relationships as part of a continuous journey that strengthens my vision of the life and love I want to create.

The more I’ve grown, the clearer I’ve become on the ways I want to give and receive love. I’m learning that love, at its best, feels like a balance of freedom and presence, moments of vulnerability and self-respect. As I move forward, I’m more intentional about what I want from a partner; qualities that foster a sense of mutual respect, shared values, and an unspoken understanding. My experiences have shown me that love thrives not when it’s forced or pursued out of fear but when it’s nurtured from a place of genuine connection and trust.
Letting go of a deep love has brought me closer to my purpose, reminded me of my strength, and deepened my faith in the journey.

Moving forward doesn’t mean leaving behind the beauty of what we shared; instead, I carry it with me, allowing it to fuel my hope for the future. I honor what was, release it with love, and step forward with renewed clarity. This journey is far from over; I remain open, curious, and hopeful, trusting that each new connection will bring me closer to a love that feels like home.

—

Heartbreak, a bitter medicine,
teaches me where I ache and why,
where I bend and where I break,
where I must learn to stand alone.

In each loss, a deeper knowing,
a softening to love’s open arms,
and the courage to seek,
again and again,
a love that feels like home.

— Sincerely, Boris

Love is as to a dry well,
The heart akin to the empty bucket.
I would be convinced that this is hell,
Had I not tasted of heaven.
Is this a shadow realm?
Like mirrors' reflections?
Is there someone like myself?
Aching & longing for one to reach out?
True in their intentions?

There are many ways to fast and many things to fast from. The gospel from Matthew helps to unravel the deeper reason for fasting. One is to give up something pleasurable like eating, drinking, watching TV, or being on the phone in order to bring our minds and hearts to remember Jesus' suffering. We can also recognize how good we have it and that many people have so much less. What little things can we do to help them? By fasting from these things that give us pleasure and satisfaction and take up so much of our time and attention, it allows us to quiet our minds and our hearts to connect with God and hear his soft voice. In fasting from a meal or part of a meal, we can become hungry. This hunger can be a reminder of the time that Jesus was in the desert after his baptism with nothing to eat or drink. In the "Our Father" we ask God to "Give us this day our Daily Bread". God will provide for all of our needs both Physical and Spiritual. Our hunger is physical, but it can also be a reminder of our spiritual hunger and the ways we try to fill the God-shaped holes in our hearts with things that can never truly satisfy. Fasting reminds us of our need for God and helps us to be dependent on Him in everything. We are called to be His children. Should we not, then, depend and rely on Him to be the perfect Father?

Lord, when we fast from things this Lent, open our hearts and minds and in your mercy, reveal to us the deeper value of it. Help us rid ourselves of the distractions in our lives in order to draw us closer to you. And while fasting is good; it alone is not sufficient. In the void of giving something up, help us to do something good, something pleasing to you Oh Lord. May we all "(Finally Find) What We Have Been Looking For". May we all find you!
Amen.

Maybe it’s time to let the old ways die.
No,
Not a gentle passing,
Not a quiet fade.
I will **** them,
Lay them to rest beneath the weight of who I must become.

But who am I, really?
A pale imitation,
A shadow too scared to meet the light.

I count my failures like rosary beads,
Each one a prayer to the hollow god of “not enough.”

The mirror lies.
It shows the surface:
Eyes half-closed—
From exhaustion?
From fear?
Or to hide the split-second shame
That flickers behind them.

A thought, raw and bare,
That what I’ve done,
What I’ve built,
Will never be enough.

I despise my own reflection—
The way it clings to mediocrity,
The way it swallows excuses
And spits them back as reasons.

Yet here I am.
Climbing a wall with no summit,
Straining toward a light
I’m not sure exists.

But still I climb,
For fear of falling
Is greater than the hunger for rest.

And in the echoes of these empty days,
I wonder:
If the old ways must die,
Will I mourn them?

Or will I simply replace them
With a newer, sharper hatred,
Polished and waiting,
For the next time I need someone to blame?

The connotation—the impulse.
The urge, and the strike.
A candle, a lighter—
the flame that ignites.

Sitting on the floor, in my room that night;
pen on paper, those words in my head.
Then the flame burned the papers—a fire so red.

I hope the reflection in my mirror
Is happy
I hope she has lots of friends
And that she smiles with her eyes

I hope the reflection in my mirror
Knows she's worthy
I hope she doesn't lay in bed
For hours at a time
Sad and unmotivated

I hope the reflection in my mirror
Is confident
I hope she is brave enough
To start a conversation
And that she isn't too scared
To leave her home

I hope the reflection in my mirror
Never gives up
I hope that she can see
A future for herself
And that she never loses hope in me
Because I haven't lost hope in her