What is grief if not living in the liminal space between mourning and coping, a shadowed threshold where life meets death in quiet conversation?

I stand on this fragile edge, where the heart quivers like a candle’s wane in the whispering dark, a realm where memories and absence, like twin spectres, waltz in the soft gloom of yesterday and the uncertain light of morrow. Every heartbeat echoes a silence weighed by loss, each breath a tentative bridge between sorrow and the subtle pulse of hope.

Here, in the interstice of emotion, time becomes fluid, a slow, deliberate current that carries moments of despair and fragments of longing, merging into an arras of unspoken truths. In this space, mourning is not an end but a sacred state, a hallowed pause that shapes the contours of coping; each tear, a drop of ink on the parchment of the soul, writing verses of resilience on the margins of our existence.

The twilight of grief, that delicate pause between dusk and night, between what once was and what might be, nurtures a silent alchemy: the transformation of raw hurt into a quiet strength, a whispered promise that from the depths of loss, a new knowing can emerge. We are all suspended, adrift on the cusp of knowing, our spirit marked by both absence and the faint shimmer of renewal.

In this liminal expanse, life, and death converse in the language of echoes and gentle reclamation, and grief, ever mysterious, ever patient, reigns as the unseen artist painting our scars with the hues of compassion. It is the sacred territory where mourning softens into acceptance, and the raw edges of yesterday’s pain create a fertile soil for the blossoming of tomorrow’s hope.

What is grief, if not this delicate passage, a continuous, unfolding dance with mortality where every sorrow holds the seed of a future embrace, every quiet tear a step towards a new dawn?

Dreams linger softly,
Time slips through idle whispers,
Action quietly waits.

A fleeting moment spills,
Hesitation drapes its veil,
Will bloom or decay?

In the hush of pause,
Whispers kindle hidden hope,
New resolve takes flight.

Some days unfurl like languid summer clouds,
Drifting with a quiet grace overhead,
While I gently set aside the dreams
That shimmered and vanished like fleeting wisps.
Procrastination, my soft yet constant companion,
Whispered excuses amid murmuring currents of intention.

Now I pause, drawing in a slow, measured breath
In the quiet alchemy of deep thought,
Where the past twirls gracefully in the amber glow
Of a waiting, embracing present.
No frantic dash to seize the day,
Just a tender glance at chances once lost
Like fragile grains of sand slipping through careless fingers.

I recall those hours of scattered, aimless delay,
An idleness where time unravelled into oblivion.
But now each heartbeat is treasured in reflective stillness,
In the gentle embrace where purpose and patience converge.

That sanctuary of deferred dreams and vacant hours
Has transformed into a vibrant canvas of mindful verse.
I savour the art of quiet contemplation,
Where every thought resonates with newfound inspiration
And procrastination stands only as a faded memory,
A silent lesson carved gently in time.

In the pub, the lads let loose,
With **** this and ****** that, their verbal abuse.
I leaned in close, with a knowing grin,
"I know your favourite word," I said, "it's **** within."

Their jaws dropped, their eyes wide,
"Did you just say that?" they cried.
But I held my ground, calm and steady,
"My favourite word," I said, "is Jesus already."

For Jesus, to me, is more than a name,
A beacon of hope, a guiding flame.
In moments of doubt, in times of despair,
His love reminds me someone’s always there.

He’s the light in the dark, the calm in the storm,
A shelter, a refuge, a heart so warm.
So while you toss your words around,
I’ll hold onto mine, profound and sound.

I stand on mountains, tall and free,
Not just by strength, but what you see.
Your kindness lifts, your light inspires,
Filling my soul with boundless fires.

The valleys low once held my fears,
But now they shimmer, calm and clear.
For every step, for every climb,
Your voice resounds - “You are divine.”

So here I stand, with skies so wide,
Heart unfurled, filled with pride.
You lift me up, you help me soar,
Now grounded strong, yet wanting more.

A whole decade, look at you,
Bright as the morning, skies so blue.
Double digits, what a feat,
A heart so kind, a soul so sweet.

The world is yours, it’s big and wide,
With dreams to chase and stars to guide.
You’re ten today, so take a bow,
The world’s your stage—your time is now.

Laughter rings where you go,
A spark of joy, a gentle glow.
The years ahead are full of light,
With love around you, shining bright.

So, here’s to you, our shining star,
Loved for who you truly are.
Happy birthday, hooray, hooray!
The world’s a brighter place today.

I can feel you looking at me*  
Through the faded colours of time,  
A specter of my past self  
Captured in creases, suspended in grain.  

Sepia sighs curl at the edges,  
Laughter trapped in silvered ink,  
Eyes full of boundless longing,  
Unaware that years would shrink.  

I run my finger along the years,  
A fragile thread, a fleeting ghost,
Did I once dream beyond this frame,  
Or did the moment hold me most?  

Yet here we stand, reflections blurred,  
The self I was, the self I bear,  
A silent nod across the years,  
A whispered thought: *I’m still in there.