Love After The Fracture
©️ Eniyans Poetry ✨️  

It does not return—  
not the way it once was,  
unbroken, uncaged,  
trusting what is.  

Forgiveness comes,  
soft as a suture,  
but the scar remembers  
where it split—  
the ache lives  
when the wind whispers your name.  

Now, it flies lower,  
afraid to explore the sky,  
and meet a heavy fall once again.  

What would you call this—  
a ruin or a revival?  
The love that remains  
is not the love that left.

Digital chains

To the ones
Who became slaves
To the notifications that pop up
When a message drops.

To the ones
Addicted to their gadgets,
Glued to the screen all day,
With eyes that grow sore.

To the ones
Who grow hesitant
For their phones to chime,
Another excuse to hold on
When they should let go.

It’s time you did what’s best for you.
Hours on the screen won’t make you,
They’ll mar you.
You know what needs to be done.
Do it,
Before it takes you.

           ©️ Eniyans
                        Poetry
                               ✨️

Let Me Tell You How the Devil Works

He walks beside you,
steady, certain, silent—
leading you to the centre of the sea.

Then he turns back.
And you are alone.

Only one thing can happen.

You keep going—
he wins.

You turn back—
you find the truth

Eniyans poetry ✨️

Many Thrones

Sometimes
we have to sacrifice
what we want
for what we already have.
Not because we don’t want more,
but because it allows
Selfishness
to thrive and grow.

Let others sit;
you already possess
many thrones.
Let others lead;
you’ve already led.

Let them contribute.
Let them grow.

You don’t have to hop on
every role thrown your way.
You won’t always be there.
So ...
let someone else.

Because legacy
is not in how much you hold,
but in how much you hand over.
It’s not in how loud your voice echoes,
but how many others
you taught to speak.

You are not lesser
for stepping back,
you are greater
for making space.

Let it be said
that when you could have taken,
you chose instead
to give.


         ©️ Eniyans
                      Poetry
                             ✨️

Life, Here I Come

Life hasn’t started?
You must be kidding, right?
I've lived for almost two decades,
and that's what you tell me?
So, you mean to say that my whole life has been a trailer?
A preview to the real thing?

Given the years I've spent,
I can say ... it doesn't get any easier.
Life will always deal with us a hard blow,
Stronger than the first,
Stronger than the last,
Stronger than the strength I thought I had.

If I could live as a toddler forever,
Would I opt for that instead of embracing growth?
A world with no worries, just warm hands and lullabies...
But would there be any fun in that?
No thrill?
No ride?
No rise or fall?

Knowing full well that life is a rollercoaster,
I’d still choose to navigate my way through it.
I may not have chosen the ride,
But I’m here,
And I’m not getting off.

So tell life ..
I’m ready.
Scarred maybe, but steady.

Life... here I come.


            Eniyans
                  Poetry
                         ✨️

If death came cloaked in quiet rain
Draped in silence,
And told you to give a name—
A name,
Of a person you love
Amongst your beloveds,
Who would it be?
Whose absence
Would buy you time?
Whose darkness
Would bring you life?

If life arrived with springs first bloom
With breath warm as morning sun,
And asked,
Who would you love to have back
Amongst your beloved—
Whose smile
Would you call from the grave?
Whose return
Would have your heart filled?

And if both came,
One shadow, one light,
And stood on either side of your soul,
Demanding answers
From a heart already worn thin
Could you speak?
Would you choose?

Or would you fall silent,
Let the weight of love
And loss
Be enough of an answer?


            ©️ Eniyans
                         Poetry
                              ✨️

So, I sat
And thought,
What if...
What if I'm not doing it right?
How?
Another thought,
How are you not doing it right?

How are you not doing it right?
Is there a "right" way at all?
What if your path is yours, unique,
And in its own mess, it's perfect too?

So, I sat
And wondered,
What if the struggle is the answer?
What if the uncertainty
Is what makes the journey real?

The question isn't,
"Am I doing it right?"
But rather,
"Am I doing it,
With my whole heart,
In my own way?"

    Eniyans
          Poetry
               ✨️

©️ Eniyans Poetry ✨️
Presence Over Presents

Emotional presence and connection–
are needed in a child's life.
Material gifts can't replace
the time,
the attention
that a child needs to feel loved and valued.

When was the last time you looked—
really looked—into their eyes?
Not just to check,
but to see.
To hear.
To feel the world they carry.

Many have wounded their children silently—
taught them to sit with shadows,
to embrace the dark as comfort,
to swallow their truths whole.
You've drawn them into the shadow of your absence,
into a silence no child should be made to know.

This is not parenting–
it's emotional abandonment,
it's silent neglect,
it's love postponed until it no longer beats,
nor knows how to.

Parents–
reassess your priorities,
reconnect,
revive what has been lost.
Don’t let your absence
be the first to teach them how to carry loneliness.

To the Ladies

To the ladies,
who sell themselves
to satisfy the lustful pleasures of men,
and to gain a moment's worth of comfort or coin,
Do you feel no stirring in your soul?
No whisper of remorse?

It ruptures my heart
to see you trample upon your own dignity and pride.
“Today’s world doesn’t care about pride and dignity anymore,” you say.
But must you echo the crowd
when you were born to rise above it?

Why not be that white sheep
amid a thousand blacks?
Even if the world is steeped in sin,
must you wear it like skin?

You become a lustful tool
to men who can’t keep their manhood in check.
But are there no other paths?
No gentler ways to survive
without exposing yourself to the virus that bites in silence?

They treat you
like a name in a phone,
a night without memory.
Yet I see more,
a soul behind tired eyes,
a woman buried beneath the noise.

You become a pick and drop,
a vessel to many lost lives.
Do you not think about this at all?
Or have you silenced the ache within?

This is not a call to shame,
but to awakening.

Close those legs,
not out of fear,
but in power.
Quit this demeaning, self-destructive act.
Pick yourself up once again,
not as a shadow of your past,
but as a woman reborn in purpose.

Reclaim what was always yours:
Your dignity.
Your pride.
Your story.


     ©️ Eniyans
                  Poetry
                        ✨️

Oath By Nature.
©️ Eniyans Poetry ✨️

By the sun—
Shining bright in daylight,
By the sun—
Beautifying the sky with its golden hue.

By the moon—
Glowing with perfection,
By the stars—
That whisper across galaxies unseen

By the raindrops—
Gently kissing the earth,
By the waves—
Powerful and majestic.

By the wind—
Whose touch is soothing,
By the greenery—
The breath of nature’s pulse.

I swear before all that exists:
I’ll love you not just by choice,
but by destiny—
in health, in strife,
in every misunderstood moment.

My love is eternal–
My oath complete

Your Growth, Your Responsibility

Growth is a garden
only your hands can tend.
Others may pass by,
but none will plant for you.

Your growth—
your responsibility.
No one else’s.

You can wait for guidance,
or start walking.
You can blame the world,
or build your own.

People may desire,
but who acts?
You.
They’ll tell you how to walk—
but who will walk the path?
You.

Growth
is many things:
leaving behind,
stepping out of your comfort zone,
learning,
mindfulness,
change.

It is proof of self-love.
Not chasing it
is proof that you care less about you.

The world will ask you
who you are—
but your growth will answer,
Even when your mouth is sealed.

Tears won’t till the soil.
Excuses don’t water roots.
If you want to bloom,
be your own sun.

Do not be the hunter
who wants to savour
without hunting.


       ©️ Eniyans
                    Poetry
                           ✨️

The World Without Me
©️ Eniyans Poetry ✨️

What if I never existed—
no footprints, no shadows.
Would the air sit lighter in your lungs?
Would the clocks still hum
the same absent tune?
Would seeing the sunset
mean the same to you?

If I never were,
you wouldn't know to miss me—
there'd be no me to haunt you—
like a book never written,
like a song never sung.
Its absence isn't felt
because it was never there
to begin with.

But now—
now that I'm here—
allow me to pierce
your delicate soul.
How would your world bend
if I left?
Does the air sit heavier?
Do the clocks stutter
when they strike the hour
I once filled?

Yes—
undeniably,
my absence would fill you with ache.
Our memories would replay—
each one a shard
you'd turn in your hands:
blood and gold,
something to cherish
for a lifetime.

No voice to carve the silence,
just the echo of what rattled:
my rants, my laughter,
my light against the walls—
gone.

My hands—
once woven with yours—
now just empty space
where your fingers ache for mine.
My warmth—
no longer felt
like a star's afterglow.

The thought alone
cracks the sky,
splinters my ribs.
To write the world without me—
I bleed ink,
I choke on the dust
of what I'll erase.

The world without me—
a wound that won't close.

Letting go isn’t as easy as you say it.
Healing doesn’t happen as quickly
as a baby grows.
Scars don’t close overnight,
and forgiveness?
It isn’t swift either.

Not every hardened heart
chose to be stone.
Some scars,
some pasts,
aren’t so easy to let go.

Beneath that toughness
lies a tender place—
one that aches,
that longs to be known,
but doesn’t know how to show
what it feels
in ways the world understands.

They want love.
Desperately.
But it’s not easy to receive
what you’ve never been taught to hold.

So when affection surfaces,
they bury it.
Pity?
They push it away.

Yes
letting go,
healing,
forgiving,
they all bring peace.

But peace, too,
takes time.

So, let’s offer a helping hand
one that stretches,
not to make them feel
like they’re not wanted,
but one that accepts them.
Help them find themselves,
and love who they are.

And maybe,
just maybe,
that’s okay.


        ©️ Eniyans
                      Poetry
                            ✨

©️ Eniyans Poetry ✨️
The One, True King.

He's the commander of all that exists
The Almighty, the Ever-living,
The Sustainer, the Last, the manifest, the hidden.
No slumber overtakes Him, nor sleep–
Chaos will flood the land.

To Him belongs all dominion and praise.
So glorify His name–
In the stillness of the night,
At the break of dawn.
In moments of joy and trials overcome.

He created all there is–
Man himself,  and all that makes him a man.
The waters— oceans, seas, lakes, rivers and raindrops.
The unseen, yet felt.

Before time was carved from the void,
Before the pen was created –
He was —
No "was" before Him, no "will be" after.
The uncreated, the witness, the unmatched, the Everlasting.

Mountains crumble at His "Be"
Oceans kneel where His winds decree.
Thunder strikes where His lightning shines.
Yet He leans near when the broken plead,
Dries their tears when their hearts speak.  

So roar it till the cosmos shakes —
There's no God but He.
Let the heavens quake,
Let the earth submit.
Let all that there is bear witness: This is it!

He's the truth no falsehood can eclipse,
The name that cracks the idol's lips.
The breath that keeps you and me going.
The name that sends shivers down the spines of our enemies.
The touch we need in our lives to forever accelerate.

The Giver of life, the Creator of death,
The Light, the Guide, the Propitious,
The Just, the Judge, the Maintainer.
The Truth, the Trustee, the Exalted.
The Delayer, the First, the Last.

Who's worthy of worship if not Him?
Who's worthy of praise if not Him?
For when creation turns to dust,
Only His face remains.
So bow in awe, repent, and proclaim His greatness.

Let the angels be free
Let the skies surrender
Let the earth cry
Let the waves rise high.

©️ Eniyans Poetry ✨️
Last Libation

From the same chalice,  
we drink to our heart’s full—  
the elixir that takes,  
though we may not rise with the sun.  

It has the taste of almonds, of grapes.  
Let it burn down our throats,  
let our shadows stretch long in the dusk,  
whispering secrets only we can dare speak.  

We toast not to victory,  
but to souls almost forgot—  
to dreams, vast, beautiful,  
yet never to be.  

If this be the last—well, it is.  
Let it be bold, let it be deep.  
To the wine that blooms  
as it withers the vein.  
To love, to loss,  
to promises we keep,  
to the drink that takes,  
yet leads to the lord.