Let me be the burnt stick,
Charred by storms I didn't escape,
But still warm enough
To spark the next soul’s flame.

If not for brilliance, then for warmth.
If not for glory, then for grace.
Let me be useful to the divine—
Even if only as the ember beneath another’s fire.

entropy is reality pushing the universal illusion out of it's sleep.

words erased from paper
last star in galaxy consumed by black hole
sound of a fallen tree in forest
never heard, never seen
all forever laid to rest
under nameless tomb of eternity.

Look up
A poem orbits around the moon
And a poet dangles on metaphors
This hazy starry night

The quill a harpoon
Whaling stories from
Sea in the inkpot

In darkest of nights
breathe in the silence
breathe out sunlight.

Mercy is the soil in which heart bears fruit of love.