Antoine Harley

Antoine Harley Apr 14

In the quiet dawn where dreams are spun,
A tapestry of life, a race begun,
At thirty-four, I pause to see,
The chapters written, the man in me.

Once a boy with stars in my eyes,
Chasing shadows and whispering sighs,
Each page a canvas, stories unfold,
Of laughter and lessons, both timid and bold.

Childhood whispers in the breeze,
The sweetness of summers, the rustling trees,
In fields of green, I danced with the sun,
Innocence gathered, I was still young.

Then came the storms, those teenage years,
With laughter and heartache, hopes mixed with fears,
The clash of emotions, a rush to belong,
Finding my voice in a world that felt wrong.

A seeker of truths, of passions untamed,
In the realm of confusion, I often felt shamed,
Yet friendships were forged in the fire of doubt,
In late-night confessions, the silence would shout.

Into the wild world, I set forth my sail,
Chasing ambitions on a curious trail,
With dreams in my pocket, and courage in hand,
I ventured through valleys, I wandered the land.

Study and struggle, the weight of the grind,
The quest for my purpose, too often maligned,
But in the pursuit, I discovered the key,
That every setback was shaping the me.

Now here at thirty-four, I compile my thoughts,
Reflecting on battles and lessons I've sought,
The bonds that I've woven, the bridges I've burned,
The paths that I've taken, for wisdom I've yearned.

Love came softly, a whispering breeze,
In the warmth of connection, I found my peace,
Through laughter and heartstrings, through moments we share,
The beauty of partnership, a journey laid bare.

As father or brother, as son or a friend,
Each role intertwines, as rivers, they bend,
In the fabric of life, we're threads tightly sewn,
Through joys and through sorrows, we're never alone.

And as the years shift, like leaves in the fall,
I gather my stories, I cherish them all,
With each passing chapter, the man that I grow,
A tapestry richer, more vibrant, and slow.

So here's to the moments that shaped who I am,
To the chapters still waiting, I'm ready to stand,
At thirty-four, I embrace what's to be,
For life is a journey, and I’m learning to see.

Antoine Harley Apr 14

PARADOX OF RAGE

The fire within, a simmering heat,
A slow burn building, bitter and sweet.
My rage, a paradox, a twisted thing,
Born from hurt, yet comfort it can bring.

A wall it builds, a fortress strong,
Protecting a heart where shadows throng.
But in its grip, a chilling frost,
A lonely vigil, dearly embossed.

It whispers lies, of power and might,
A twisted justice, blinding the light.
It paints a picture, sharp and bold,
Of wrongs unrighted, stories untold.

This fury, a river, wild and deep,
Carries me onward, secrets to keep.
Secrets of sorrow, buried and deep,
That fester and bloom while others sleep.

It's a shield I raise, against the sting
Of words unsaid, and wounds that cling.
A roaring engine, fueled by despair,
A desperate cry, lost on the air.

But in its fury, a hollow sound,
A lonely echo, on barren ground.
For rage consumes, it burns and it bites,
Leaving only ashes, in desolate nights.

I crave release, a gentle hand,
To soothe the tempest, across the land.
To quell the fire, to still the storm,
And find a peace, safe and warm.

Yet fear holds back, a silent plea,
That vulnerability will shatter me.
So the rage remains, a bitter friend,
A paradox of pain, without end.

It builds me up, then tears me down,
A crown of thorns, a thorny crown.
A shadowed dance, a lonely plight,
Lost in the darkness, without a light.

The paradox deepens, a cruel design,
The fire I crave, it's not truly mine.
It's a borrowed power, a borrowed might,
A fading ember, in the fading light.

I yearn for calmness, a tranquil state,
To break the chains, before it's too late.
To understand the source, the bitter root,
And tame the beast, before it's consumed me to boot.

But the anger lingers, a constant guest,
A troubled spirit, never at rest.
A silent battle, fought within,
The paradox of rage, where does it begin?
And where, oh where, will it ever end?
The question haunts, a bitter blend.
Of hurt and anger, fear and pride,
The raging tempest, deep inside.

— The End —