Burn the pages
start new rummages
let the flames devour the past
let it fly away with smoke at last.

From the ashes we can rise
forget the fire that dies
and ignite a new spark
that will guide us through the dark.

Start afresh, write a new book
let there be inspiration, wherever we look
with every word, with every rhyme
Carve out the truth in the sands of time.

Never give up, solve that puzzle
there’s always light, at the end of the tunnel.

We have to hope, we have to fight
and emerge from the shadows that hold us tight
For one has to go through the complexities of night
To finally dance in the dawn’s golden light.

Distant trains still sound alarms,
Blinds are drawn, people yawn,
It's time to call the day.

The sun's turned off,
The moon's turned on,
The stars like pinholes
Blink till dawn.
The animals are bedded
On the farm;
Beneath the counterpane
I'll find no harm.

Today's work is done,
Tomorrow's not begun,
But tonight I'll sleep
Like the seventh son.

When I looked at the night sky, I felt a deep sense of loss.

The stars, were too far away.

I packed jars into the fridge, so that they preserve all I have left when I come back.

It was a plague, a silence, that followed and sputtered life and people were scared.

But I got to see you. Goodbye.

And when I got back, I starved with little I had.

I’d craft you a poem, yet words may fall short,
To capture the joy, the laughter, the rapport.
The very essence of what sets you apart,
The moment we met, the joy in my heart.

Instead, gaze upon the night's starlit design,
Connect the dots, the constellations align.
A grand spectacle, yet a void unseen,
A tapestry incomplete, until you intervened.

Stand amidst the cosmos, in lunar glow,
The missing piece, the truth starts to show.
By now, you must surely know,
How your presence completes this poem I bestow.

Who am I, but a vessel of past despair,
    With a tangled knot in my mind, aware,
    "Break free from the chains of depression's snare,
     Confess your truth, find solace in the air."
     But does this advice still hold its worth,
     When wielded as a weapon, causing hurt?

"The words from a pen, a mind's indulgence,
     A gateway to thoughts, seeking resurgence,
     Escaping the prison, a soul's penitentiary,"
     Said the one who loved fiercely, with intensity.
     Yet the voice of the voiceless, it seems,
     Falls on deaf ears, lost in a realm of dreams.

Misunderstood, they heard me wrong,
     "I wished to shed my identity, be strong,
      Not brave enough to change my hair's hue,
      Like my smiles, I alter, but never anew.
      Wearing a frown, they won't take me seriously,
      Even when I express my pain so clearly.

In moments of boredom, my words flow,
     But relationships have taught me to go,
     Through a board of scrutiny, every decision,
     As if love owed me, demanding precision.
     But this time, I'll confront it head-on,
     No wooden board, just justice to be won.

Success, a pinnacle that feels unwise,
     A light-bulb to illuminate my eyes,
     To see my reflection in a brighter light,
     But as pockets fill, judgment takes flight.
     Counting the screams at empty walls,
     Filling the void that my soul enthrals.
     No cries of woe echo louder than before,
     Two Forty-Four, the hour I silently implore.