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Boris Cho Nov 10
In life, I find that meaning comes not from the pursuit of happiness as a singular goal, but from the journey of seeking something greater than myself. I’ve come to understand that a quest; whether grand or humble; is what gives structure and intention to life. It’s not merely about what I achieve but about the way in which I push my boundaries and challenge my comfort. The richness of life is woven through this constant pursuit, where the process itself brings fulfillment, growth, and, ultimately, a deeper sense of purpose.

I’ve learned that quests are personal, and they vary from person to person. For some, it may be an exploration of the world, for others, an internal journey of self-mastery or spiritual enlightenment. What matters is not the specific nature of the journey but the fact that it demands something of me. A quest calls for sacrifice, resilience, and a willingness to embrace discomfort in the name of something meaningful. It teaches me to value perseverance and to cherish progress as much as the outcome.

In my experience as a divorced single father, I’ve found that even in failure or setback, there is an immense value in the effort. Each step forward, each obstacle, and each victory, no matter how small, brings clarity. I learn more about myself, about my limits, and about the world around me. This process has shown me that I am capable of more than I often imagine.

The most profound lesson I’ve come to understand is that life is more than the routine we fall into. It’s about actively choosing a path that resonates with who I am at my core. The choice to embark on a journey that allows me to live intentionally, to craft a story that is uniquely mine, and to pursue a legacy that matters; not necessarily to the world at large, but to my soul and for my daughter.

In seeking a quest, I’ve come to realize the importance of listening to the call of my heart and not the expectations of others. What is most true and beautiful in life is discovered through action, not merely contemplation. The quest is not about perfection; it is about daring greatly, facing fears, and allowing passion to guide me toward something meaningful. And through this pursuit, I find not just a fleeting sense of happiness, but a life that is rich in purpose.



I walk the path, alone, not lost,
A father’s heart, the cost embossed.
With one eye gone, I see more clear,
The wounds of home, the quiet fear.

Through surgeries, through love undone,
The quest began when I was young.
Not in the joy, but in the pain,
I found my strength, I learned to reign.

A daughter’s light, my guiding star,
Through a broken past, we’ve come so far.
This life, my journey, ever fast;
A quest for peace, for love that lasts.

— Sincerely, Boris
Boris Cho Nov 10
The day unfolds with a heart steeped in gratitude, stirred awake by morning meditation. The afternoon finds me beneath a willow's gentle sway, a book cradled in my hands, warmth rising from a mug beside me. As night whispers its arrival, my thoughts spill onto paper, paired with a quiet indulgence. Each moment carries the weight of intention, weaving a rhythm of mindfulness, stillness, and creativity. It’s a ritual that nourishes my spirit, cultivating inner peace, self discovery, and inspiration in its delicate balance.



Through meditation, we sit with what arises,
learning to stay present with our thoughts,
to breathe into the pain of our experiences.

No longer fleeing discomfort,
we meet our fears with open arms,
letting them speak, letting them go quietly.

The thoughts, the worries, the pain;
all given the mental space to exist,
but no longer bound by our need for control.

We hold them lightly,
and as we loosen our grip,
until they all begin to drift away.

In this stillness, our healing begins,
slow and unfolding,
a lifelong journey until we are reborn.

We embrace the unknown,
finding peace in the spaces in between;
holding on and letting go.

— Sincerely, Boris
Novaero Nov 7
As I dwell within His vicinity
in search for Cleopatra's stone
His angels rise at the complexity
of the presence that dwells within

Wondering, lost in Labyrinth's embrace
I, at last, have the glimpse of hope, a distant light
As I drenched my soul in His blood to see Your face
Finally, the upper hand, I have within the fight

Inhumane, the nature that dwells within my psychology
along with tenacious entities, calibrating
as to describe the extremity of the Torturous self-tyranny
I place the pen on the table and let You do the narrating

Your grace, I can say, has spoken enough
Whispers in the dark, unseen and unheard
Strategic in battle like the argent chough
sufficient damage incurred
XI.VII.MMIII. Let us delve into a personal journey of spiritual exploration and internal conflict, exploring themes of divine intervention, self-discovery and the struggle between good and evil.
Cassandra Nov 5
I put my pen to paper
as I leave half my worries behind

Vomited the words I once engulfed,
as I realised,
they were always mine.
Kalliope Nov 4
A ghost or a shell
I never can tell
When I look in the mirror
And everything's weird
The smile I miss
Now a thin line so crisp
The glaze in my eyes
Since the glow died
This skin isn't mine
This body feels like a crime
I don't recognize what I see
I just want to feel like me
Holding onto the past
But wanting to be new
How long does this transition last
I'm ready to shed this shade of blue
Zywa Nov 2
As a child I felt:

there is a secret in me --


big, for the whole world.
Novel "Voor God en de Sociale Dienst" ("For God and Social Services", 2000, Nicolien Mizee), fax dated September 30th, 1999 about (January 8th) 1978

Collection "Out of place"
Zywa Nov 2
Suddenly I know

the secret hidden in me --


and I speak it out.
Novel "Voor God en de Sociale Dienst" ("For God and Social Services", 2000, Nicolien Mizee), fax dated September 30th, 1999 about (March) 1978

Collection "Out of place"
Cassandra Nov 1
Am I the way I think, the way I dress,
Or the way I speak?
Or am I defined by the way
I broke my own heart through rotten adversities?

Am I kind, am I bitter, or am I stuck in between?
Does everyone remember the ways I hurt them
Or the ways I healed?
Am I shaped by my destiny
Or by the paths I carve myself?
Will I make a difference,
Or will my life just quietly pass?

Am I the things I hate, am I the things I love?
Am I the things I do, or the things I think of?
Am I the words I write or the scenes I paint?
What happens if I stay? What happens if I go?

When they look at me, do they see a face or a heart?
Am I the way I spurn or the way I laugh?

Am I this? Am I that?
I am a thousand things,
everything plays a part.
Cassandra Nov 1
The art of not caring does not come easily to me
I constantly think about who I am and who I ought to be
I could think all day about what was and what’s about to come
I have spent days stuck in my thoughts,
there have been days when I got nothing done

The art of not caring is hard to master
I just spent hours thinking if I’m too slow,
should I go faster?

I care a lot, I care too much
About things too trivial and things too big,
I think about everything.
The spots on my face, the shape of my teeth.
The dress I wear, the way I speak.

I am in the middle of caring as I write this,
I heard someone talk on the phone,
They got the best paying job, with the best team, with the best firm.
I saw someone else post a picture about a party
someone was out on lunch with a friend,
I see everyone finding someone who cares about them

I sit here caring about things wondering if it’ll ever be any different.  
I care about myself, I care about my friends and I care about the world
In exchange, I get a feeling that I might be a loser.
I paint things nobody sees, I write words nobody reads,

I dread what I do, I dread what I don’t
I feel like I am always falling behind, I don’t even know what I want
The art of not caring is something I should learn
I would be happy with a B, I don’t need an A
If I carry pieces of caring too much with me,
I would be okay.

As much as I care about if I care too much,
and I want to let that go,
As much as I want to care less,
As much as I want to be someone else,
I hold on to it,
I keep caring.
It has taken me this far, It has stuck by me.
Maybe I was born with the art of caring deeply,
Maybe it will take me places meant for me.
Maybe I will live differently.
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