Regain control, as a captain taming the sea,
Steering through storms towards serenity.
This tempest, fierce and wild, shall let loose its hold,
Releasing you from chains, stories untold.
And winds subside, and skies unfold,
Know that within your spirit, courage takes hold.

Our spirit’s were created Good and Holy because God who created them is Good and Holy.
Your soul is a collection of character attributes which you picked up along the way of living.
—Timothy Charles Carter

I will live in spite:
I will be proud of life,
I will cherish the warmth
It will have many forms.
I will fight
I leave all the pain aside.

I will live in spite:
You'll find light in my eyes
And wherever it lies
It will grow and thrive.

I will live in spite
If you want to destroy me
You'll **** my body
but my spirit will be alive!

--
Ukrainian:
Я житиму назло:
пишатимусь собою,
плекатиму тепло,
що жевріє в неволі
і як би не звело
сміятимусь від болю.

Я житиму назло:
в очах цих буде світло
і де б не залягло -
там виросте й розквітне.

Я житиму назло,
захочеш мене вбити:
ти тіло умертвиш,
та дух мій буде жити!

Maybe art is exposing my soul,
Leaving it raw and vulnerable under
The gazes of all those
Who wander in the museum of my
Heart.

Maybe art is an exercise in understanding,
Where we strain to make sense of
Darkness we’ve never seen the depths of,
Or light that we long to be warmed by
But can’t quite reach.

Maybe art is a meeting of kindred spirits;
An understanding that you were never alone,
Even when you were drowning and no one
Could hear you scream.
Far away, your words echoed, and in
The mind of another lost soul,
They found their place on the page.

He is dead, and she

writes me from his mobile phone:


You don't have to cry.

Your thoughts crash like thunder, a cacophony of pain, swept away
by the tempest waves of your hair; how ironic it is that men gaze
upon women’s ******* as if they were an oasis in a parched desert.
They possess a strength akin to mountains, while the valley of your
tears floods my vision. Within your form lies the purest fulfilment,
resonating through your very bones; how swiftly it transforms into
verses etched with sharp precision.

Our flesh and spirit coexist, yet they remain eternally apart – we
chase satisfaction in the simplest of joys, our spirits yearning for the
heavens, while the flesh craves a taste of heaven through one hell of
a life. With a gentle gaze, your lips ignite a wildfire, taming nothing
but the primal instincts you believe you have tamed.

The thirst for love flutters like a hummingbird, sipping from a nectar
we cannot measure, unaware of how it nourishes us or for how long.
I oscillate between life’s most profound moments – for human
pleasure demands no concentration, only the act of losing oneself
in the moment. Self-control is the very essence of that focus – yet
how swiftly our thoughts become dulled in the enigma of life.

                                            Everything is just an enigma in the end.

That voice
Inside your head
The untrue you
Past and future dread

Remnants wanting to shape
Events that are not facts
Wanting to control
Anything else

The low burning blues
Up from the underground
Seen when life around
Is shining

Fly above, look out
Beyond your self
Take a peek
Glide right back in

Into your spirit
Into your hope
Turn fear into angels wings
The universe needs you
To stop trying to fix it