Step in, as the day wanes low,
The horizon softens, a calming glow.
Time to reset, to breathe, to see,
How far we’ve come, how far we’ll be.

Step out, and let the night descend,
A cycle ending, only to begin again.
For as the stars replace the sun,
The big reset has just begun.

Growth is an ache, not a gentle stretch,
a breaking open, not a quiet bloom.
It is shedding skin that clings too tight,
the sting of air on what was once concealed.

You tell yourself to swallow it down,
to press the weight of feeling into silence,
as if strength is the absence of pain,
as if numbness is wisdom.

But the dam cracks.
A flood will always find its way,
rushing through the spaces you ignored,
drowning the quiet you mistook for peace.

You cannot rise while buried alive.
You must sit in the mess of yourself,
let the grief, the rage, the joy, the longing
unfold their lessons in your hands.

For to feel is to know,
and to know is to grow—
not in comfort, not in ease,
but in truth

Time’s running out—
tick, tick, tick—
but I’m not chasing clocks,
I’m chasing purpose.

Dreams? We all got ‘em.
Big, small, loud, quiet—
and I ain’t here to compare.
You walk your road, I’ll walk mine.

Yeah, they laugh sometimes.
“Too big,” they say. “Too far.”
But I know the truth:
it’s not just the dream itself.
It’s the journey that shapes the masterpiece.

The mountain? Always growing.
The finish line? Always moving.
But I keep on going.
Because the masterpiece?
It ain’t the goal…it’s the grind.

And when at last my time is through,
when dusk has dimmed my final view,
I shall not mourn what lay ahead,
but cherish all the steps I tread.

I’ll smile upon the road behind,
the highs, the lows, the fight, the climb.
Not for the dream that led me on,
but for the soul it made me find.

I clawed my way from winter’s mouth…
the wolf that fed on memory and rot.
Its hunger had no end,
and I was the feast.

But I tore loose.
With bloodied breath and crooked spine,
I rose.

In the forest of endings,
a bear’s voice called…
half lament,
half command.
It knew my name
when I had none.

The stars spun in reverse.
The cycle cracked
like glass under weight.
And in the hush that followed,
a flame stirred.

It spoke:

“Come, child.
You are the death
of forgetting.”

And somewhere,
deep in the trees,
another wolf stirred…
not the devourer,
but not yet known.
Its eyes burned with something ancient,
its breath was the wind.

It waits.

And when it steps forward…
which wolf will it be

The wolf runs wild within my chest,
Its footsteps heavy, never rest.
It leaps through valleys of my doubt,
A creature I cannot chase out.
Yet still I breathe, I hunt the night,
For even shadows fade with light.

But alongside, in quiet grace,
The bear walks steady, knows its place.
It watches with a patient eye,
A strength that’s silent, never shy.
In moments dark, when all feels lost,
The bear reminds me of the cost:
That peace, not violence, shows the way,
And wisdom knows when to delay.

The wolf may chase, the bear may roam,
But in their dance, I find my home.

They told me love was butterflies,
A spark, a flutter, a fleeting high.
I believed in hearts that race,
In passion’s sweet, relentless chase.
But time, the teacher, whispers low:
Love is more than feelings show.

Look at those who’ve walked the years,
Through laughter bright and silent tears.
Do they still feel the fevered thrill,
Or something deeper, stronger still?
There are days they fight, they ache,
When love seems almost a mistake.

Yet in the anger, in the rain,
In moments of the deepest pain,
Love remains, a quiet force,
A steady hand that charts the course.
Not just a feeling, wild and free,
But a choice, a will, a loyalty.

So love is more than what we feel,
It’s what we build, it’s what we heal.
Through storms and calm, through wrong and right,
It’s what we hold, through darkest night.
A bond, a vow, a sacred art—
To love when it’s hardest on the heart.

Why do we build up all the good things,
Just to knock them right back down?
Why craft a throne of fragile dreams,
Then cast away the crown?

Why sculpt with care a world of light,
Then drape it in despair?
Why light the flame that warms the night,
Only to leave it bare?

Are we the storm that shakes the bridge,
The tide that swallows sand?
Or is it fear that tips the scales,
Unsteady in our hands?

Perhaps destruction feels like power,
A way to hide the ache.
Or we rebuild because we hope,
Despite each fall — we wake.

For every ruin holds a seed,
Each crumble tells a tale.
And maybe, in this rise and fall,
We learn we’re meant to fail.

To fail, rebuild, and fail again,
Until the truth shines through:
That building up is worth the fall,
For growth ignites anew.

When was the last time someone asked—
really asked—
“How are you?”
Not just the words,
not just a passing phrase
dropped in the space between hello and goodbye,
but a question that waited,
lingered,
held its breath for the truth.

When was the last time someone cared?
Not out of habit,
not out of duty,
but because your silence felt heavy,
because your laughter didn’t reach your eyes,
because they noticed
what you’ve been too busy to see.

And have you even asked yourself?
Past the noise,
past the rehearsed replies,
past the I’m fine that feels like a locked door.
Have you stood still long enough
to sit with the answer?

Let’s put the banter to one side.
Easier said than done, I know.
No need to overthink, no need to fix—
just breathe.
Just be.
And if no one else asks today,
then I will:

How are you, really?

Love isn’t just about perfect fits,
Or seamless lives that neatly mix.
Two hearts can come from worlds apart,
With different dreams, a different start.

It’s not in sameness love is found,
But where we seek the middle ground.
Where compromise and patience grow,
And each one bends, just enough to know—

That love’s not in the flawless way,
But in the choice we make to stay.
To build, to learn, and to endure,
Through storms and doubts, love becomes sure.

So don’t just search for “the one” to find,
But be the one who stays, who’s kind.
For love’s not just in finding gold,
But in the hands that learn to love and hold

Let me see—
there’s a deep conversation in thee,
a melody spun in hushed restraint,
a hunger veiled in lips so faint.

What do you believe?
Do shadows sigh where longing dwells,
where silence tolls like distant bells?
Do hearts still bleed in secret rites,
bound by hands that crave the night?

Let me see the hidden world within thee—
the velvet dark, the gilded ache,
the vow unbroken, the hands that take.
Unveil the echoes, unearth the deep,
let me taste what your soul dares to keep,
let me drown where your ghosts do weep.
Will you… will you let me see

Some things are left without a sound,
Yet still, they echo all around.
The things we hide beneath the skin,
Can show without a word or grin.

A glance can speak the things we fear,
A silence that the heart holds dear.
The unspoken truths remain alive,
In every pause, in every sigh.

No voice is needed to be true,
For silence whispers what we knew.
The quiet speaks the deepest plea,
A language only hearts can see.

The river carved the rocks with time,
Yet swore it left no trace behind.
The fire kissed the wood and air,
Then claimed it never once was there.

The storm may pass, the echoes thin,
Yet something lingers deep within.
Not seen, not named, but not erased—
Some marks were never meant to fade.