How many lose their way
in woods that stand in grace,
in everlasting silence,
like in a fog shrouded,

that can’t be pierced with eyes
and thickens as you stare,
so wanderers, unaware
of how to cross these parts,
their constant search for signs,
they fear they cannot bear.

Once felt led astray,
they pick up the pace
and turn words to prayer
with inner strength united.

A voice that casts its spells,
to brace, fight, and repel
apparitions and wraiths
that it had just invited,

to make a rightful claim
on what it cannot gain,
as it cannot be lost
by conquered trees and ghosts.

Then back to where it started,
to woods that stand in grace,
in everlasting silence,
like in a fog shrouded.

We practice serenity
with each day that we receive.
No search for amenity
just live off of what we believe.
No shortness of want or need,
look how easily we breathe.

That’s where the old snake stopped me
from attempting to grab the fruit.
There was endless crop to see
there was infinite loot.
We’re living in paradise lost.
We’re living in paradise lost,
and I don’t ever want to be found.

No much more to gain,
we shower within the rain.
Maybe I could stop this train
maybe you could stop the pain.
We have no short of grain
we have no hate or bane.
Rocky Mountains or flat plain,
delusional but still sane.

That’s where the old snake stopped me,
and told me that I need not pick.
The fruit was freely dropping,
raining down so strong and quick.
We’re living in paradise lost,
with nothing bringing us down.
We’re living in paradise lost,
and I don’t ever want to be found.

City lights flicker, casting shadows tall,  
Whispers of evening, in twilight’s fall.  
Streets hum softly, a nocturnal song,  
In the heart of darkness, where we all belong.

Moon ascends in silence, a guardian in the sky,  
Stars spill secrets, as constellations sigh.  
Echoes of footsteps, a dance on cobbled stone,  
Night embraces the wanderer, the dreamer, the alone.

Neon signs pulse, a heartbeat of the street,  
Mysteries unravel where darkness and light meet.  
Windows glimmer faintly, lives hidden behind,  
In the cloak of midnight, stories unwind.

Cool breeze carries whispers of distant seas,  
Rustling leaves murmur, swaying with the trees.  
A symphony of stillness, the night’s gentle hymn,  
In its silent chorus, we find solitude within.

Night is a canvas, painted in shades of deep,  
Where dreams take flight, and secrets keep.  
Beneath its vast expanse, a quiet allure,  
In the embrace of night, our spirits endure.

A whisper soft—across the vale,
Where Rona Mae Ronda treads—
Her footfall light, a breeze’s tale,
Through meadows gold—she spreads.

No need of day—her presence brings,
A twilight soft and kind—
With every step—a thousand springs,
Awake in heart and mind.

The daisy turns—her face to see,
As Rona Mae Ronda glides—
Through clover fields—so carelessly,
Where innocence—abides.

The robin pauses in his flight,
To hear her laughter’s sound—
For Rona Mae—by day or night,
Turns all to sacred ground.

She leaves no trace—yet all can tell,
Wherever she has been—
The very air—begins to swell,
With what the soul—has seen.

:: 08.12.2024 ::

A peaches dawn climbs
A deep-breathing dark blue sky:
Flowers, a warm breeze.

If I could gather all the stars,
And place them in a bowl,
If I could capture a sunset
And frame it for your wall.
If I could scrape off sunlight's glow,
That kisses the green grass,
Blend the mixture gently,
And serve it in a glass.

I would, I would,
A thousand times or more,
To bring you closer to the beauty
Of all you're longing for.

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦,
𝘐 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦,
𝘈 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴,
𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦.

𝘈𝘴 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺,
𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯,
𝘔𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘴,
𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘯.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱,
𝘐 𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺,
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘴,
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺.

𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴,
𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘣𝘪𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘶,
𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵,
𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦.

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴,
𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦,
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴,
𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦.

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦,
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦,
𝘎𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘺𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘩
𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦.

𝘚𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴,
𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦,
𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦,
𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴.

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺,
𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯,
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘺,
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.