In our actions lies our well-being.  
We rise each day,  
Do our work with courage,  
Shining   like the sun   without fear.

Ambitious,  
We strive to make everything work,  
Perfectly, seamlessly.

But then,  
We become obsessed with glory  
Craving recognition,  
Longing for appreciation.

Who doesn’t want others to be proud?

Yet this desire builds a cage
A prison of expectations  
Where our happiness becomes theirs to decide.

We can’t control their reactions,  
Their thoughts, their praise,  
Or what they expect from us.

So instead,
Let us take joy in the doing  
Find freedom in our intentions.

Not to be thanked,  
Not to be seen,  
But simply to live… freely and fully.

I say I want something real,
More love ,more connection,more presence.
But everytime it comes ,feels more distant
The harder I try ,more it repels

What if I go after what I want?
And it doesn't want me back,
Chaos fills my mind

But still in need of peace ,
I try find reasons not to give up,
I get quiet and so silent.
I question if being seen leads to being left.
If then, I should leave first to be seen.

Have walked with it in my heart,
Like an armor I call it strength,
Challenged myself it was a journey worth walking.

Convincing myself not needing anyone was okay,
Doing everything on my own was worthy.
In isolation I called solitude my friend,
Because in it was peaceful.


But all this maybe am just afraid,
That letting someone in , they'll get to know a version of me I kept hidden,
They'll still walk away anyway,
And I'll still walk and be alone anyway.

Two   the word we use,  
As if life were a coin,  
Each side opposing:  
One, a dream; the other, silence.  

We call Death the thief of goals,  
The end that never asks,  
But why should it?  
When even Life, its brother,  
Arrives without permission,  
Yet remains sacred.

Sometimes I speak to Death itself,  
Ask it:  
Why don’t you knock?  
Why don’t you warn?  
Why don’t you ask before you take?

But then I pause,
Am I not in control of my own path?  
Or is Death the master still,  
Choosing when to come  
And who to claim?

Death
Why do  you grieve?  
Why do  you  fear fate?

Imagine the soul   yours, mine  
Entwined in the delicate dance  
Of life and its inevitable shadow.  

It must happen.  
Karma, I say.

Every decision, every step
The seeds of future consequence.  
Right or wrong, good or bad
But who defines them?

The sun and earth,  
Even they obey time
Silent servants to fate.

Who Is Good? What Is Good?

I've always wondered
What is good in our choices?  
What is bad in the decisions we reason through?  
Every action, born from thought,  
Feels right   to the one who acts.

Yet still,  
Everyone desires to be called righteous.

The hero saves the world from the villain,  
But in doing so,  
He often mirrors the villain’s hand
All in the name of good.

And the villain?  
Yes, they harm, destroy, and take.  
But even they justify their cause
Claiming to serve justice,  
Or help God correct a wrong.

So who decides?  
In whose eyes is the villain evil?  
In whose truth is the hero pure?  
We live in a world where things  
Must always be  good  or bad

But perhaps,  
We just choose sides
And call it truth.