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In shadowed streets where silence weeps,

And echoes chase the feet of time,

A whisper hums where sorrow sleeps,

“Stay soft,” it sings, “though life may climb

Its thorn-wrought walls and break your skin,

Do not let hardness settle in.”

For pain may press with quiet might,

May twist the dawn into the night,

But you, dear soul, are not your ache,

Not every bruise, not every break.

You are the hush between the rain,

The breath that rises after pain.

So let it hurt. Let teardrops fall

Like silver bells down sorrow’s wall.

Let it swell and let it sting,

Grief is a wild, untamed thing.

But let it heal. The heart, it knows

How even shattered gardens grow.

And when the ache begins to fade,

Like fog dissolved by morning’s blade,

Let it go—release its hold,

The stories pain has tried to mold.

You are more than what you bear,

A flame still dancing through despair.

So rise, as mist that greets the sun,

As rivers do when thaw has come.

Rise soft, rise fierce, rise with your grace,

The world may harden—but not your face.

Smile with the soul that’s weathered through,

There’s still a bloom inside of you.

In the hush between the ticking hours,

Where shadows curl beneath the tea-stained light,

I see you - yes, even now,

Even when you think the world has looked away.

You move through mornings like whispered prayers,

Gathering crumbs of courage from yesterday’s dreams,

Shouldering kindness like a well-worn coat,

Soft at the seams, but still stitched strong.

I see your effort,

Not the loud, banner-waving kind,

But the quiet heroism of simply rising,

Of showing up,

Of washing one more dish,

Smiling once more for someone else.

There is a grace in your weariness,

A dignity in your doubt.

You matter more than the world dares to tell you,

More than the mirror reveals

Or the silence admits.

Be gentle, dear traveller of tangled days.

You are not meant to outrun the dark

But to carry a candle within it.

And I,

With all the stars I can summon,

See you.

In a room where shadows stretched like sighs,

Where time wore slippers and whispered lies,

There stood a soul, not born, but built,

Threaded not from ease, but quilted guilt,

Not soft by chance, but choice refined,

By all the jagged things behind.

She walked where tempests cracked the sky,

Where childhood dreams went soft and dry,

Where harsh words bruised like winter sleet,

Yet still she offered something sweet.

Not sugar spun from naivety,

But honey from a wisdom tree.

For kindness, see, is not a gift

Wrapped neat in bows and morning lift,

It’s forged in fire, steeped in rain,

Tempered in sorrow, kissed by pain.

It’s choosing light with eyes gone dim,

And humming hope when edges grim.

She smiles not out of ignorance,

But as rebellion. As a dance.

As a thumb pressed gently in the eye

Of every grief that whispered: Why?

She learned to bloom where nothing grew,

To soften sharpness, split in two,

And still she laughed. And still she gave.

And still she found more hearts to save.

The kindest souls are not naive,

They know how often people leave,

How promises can turn to smoke,

Yet still, they mend the ones who broke.

So if you meet one - bless the thread

That stitched their wounds and raised their head.

They are the lanterns, fierce and bright,

Born not in ease, but in the night.

You’ve wandered long through shadowed lands,

With trembling heart and open hands,

The clocks spun slow, the sky turned grey,

Yet still, you rose to meet the day.

A thousand questions marked your pace,

Who am I now? What is this place?

But hush - the wind, it softly knows,

The soul still grows, the spirit flows.

You wore your grief like autumn’s coat,

Then shed it when the spring took note.

The stars watched on with patient eyes,

As you began to reorganize.

Your path, your pace, your whispered dreams,

No longer bound to old regimes.

You dared to laugh, to love, to try,

Beneath a less familiar sky.

And though you walk with aching feet,

The journey’s song is bittersweet.

You are not lost - you’re being led,

By threads of gold the Fates have spread.

So question all! The love, the lore,

The quiet "why," the distant shore.

You’re not alone - just newly found,

Among kind hearts, profound and sound.

Step forward now with trust, with grace,

The future waits to know your face.

For all that’s past is not yet gone,

You’re just becoming who you’ve been all along.

They called you kind, a gentle soul,

Soft as petals, sweet and whole.

You bore the weight of every storm,

A refuge where the ruthless swarm.

You folded yourself in careful lines,

Shrank to fit their grand designs.

Smiled through wounds they couldn't see,

Convinced that love meant loyalty.

But kindness should not taste like chains,

Nor drown beneath another's pains.

To give is grace, but not to lose,

The voice, the light, the right to choose.

Why must your comfort come last in line?

Why must you dim so they may shine?

A heart so vast, yet bound so tight,

A sky eclipsed to spare the night.

No more. No more the whispered "yes,"

That bends your spine in self-duress.

No more apologies for thin air,

For taking space, for standing there.

To choose yourself is not unkind,

Not cruel, not selfish, just aligned.

Boundaries drawn with steady hands,

Are sacred vows, not harsh demands.

And those who love you, who truly see,

Will bless your rise, will set you free.

The rest will fall, like autumn leaves,

Carried off on silent eves.

So stand, unshaken, bold and true,

Unbowed by guilt they place on you.

For peace is not in being small,

It's daring, fully, to be your all.

Oh, tender balm, the sweetest art,

A force unseen that mends the heart,

Through whispered winds and golden light,

Love heals the wounds of endless night.

Its touch is soft, yet deeply sure,

A salve for pain no time could cure.

In every glance, in every sigh,

It weaves a bridge where sorrows lie.

Beneath the shadows, cold and deep,

Where silent fears and heartbreaks sleep,

Love stirs the soul, ignites the flame,

And teaches us we're not to blame.

It breaks the chains of loss and woe,

Through gentle streams, it bids us grow.

A symphony of hope it plays,

And paints with grace the darkest days.

When grief has silenced all our songs,

And life feels cruel, unjust, and wrong,

Love bends the air with soft refrain,

And fills the cracks with joy again.

It dwells in hands that hold with care,

In every prayer, in every stare.

In laughter shared and tears that flow,

Love whispers, "Child, you're not alone."

Its healing power transcends the scars,

Unites the earth, connects the stars.

A boundless force, it knows no end,

A steadfast guide, a truest friend.

Through love, the shattered heart is whole,

It breathes new life into the soul.

Oh, sacred cure, eternal grace,

The healer time cannot replace.

For love is more than fleeting bliss;

It lives in every tender kiss,

In acts of kindness, pure and true,

The healing of love renews, anew.

(The Weightless Dawn)

Oh, anxious heart, so tight in its hold,

A whispering storm, both silent and bold.

It creeps like shadows before the light,

Stealing the peace from the depths of night.

It tells you stories carved in fear,

Echoes of doubt you should not hear.

It pulls you under, a swirling tide,

Yet strength still stirs from deep inside.

Breathe, dear soul, let stillness grow,

Like rivers learning where to flow.

Not every thought is yours to keep,

Let them rise, then let them sleep.

For you are not the weight you bear,

Not tangled worry, nor thin-worn air.

You are the sky, vast and wide,

Holding the storms, yet letting them glide.

Inhale the dawn, exhale the past,

Not every storm is meant to last.

Feel the earth beneath your feet,

Steady, solid, calm, complete.

The moon still glows, the stars still shine,

Hope is etched in every line.

And when the night feels far too long,

Know in your soul, you still belong.

So take each moment, slow and kind,

A love-lit path within your mind.

Anxiety fades, like mist at sea,

And in its place, you set yourself free.

The day fell like a crumpled note,

tossed into the wastebasket of time,

a whisper, a cough, a footstep fading,

the sound of nothing,

the echo of things left unsaid.

I walked through streets without pavement,

over stones that remembered me not.

Each window was an eye, unblinking,

a stare of glass indifferent to grief.

The wind pressed against my cheek,

not a caress, not a blow,

just a presence,

like the weight of a name no longer called.

I did not weep, though my heart did,

a different kind of pain,

a betrayal of the body's rituals.

Tears demand permission,

but silence sneaks in, unbidden,

settles between the ribs,

lodges behind the throat,

a ghost pressing against the edges of breath.

And so the hours unravelled,

like a frayed sleeve in a forgotten coat,

threadbare, loose at the seams,

and still I walked,

searching for the shape of sorrow,

in the absence of rain.

Night came in its sensible shoes,

soft-footed, practical, gray.

No stars, no moon,

only the hum of a world

that did not know I was breaking.

I sat on the edge of the bed,

hands resting like relics on my knees.

And the heart wept again,

as it always does,

quietly,

where no one can see.

THE NIGHT CAME FAST QUICK QUICK TO ME, 

I SEE HER NOW LOOK LOOK IT'S HER.

THE AIR WAS COLD CRISP CRISP THE FEEL,

THE MEMORY THINK THINK  MY MIND,

MISTAKES I MADE SHAME SHAME ON ME.

I SHOULD HAVE MOVED  WALK WALK TO HER! 

I FROZE IN TIME TICK TICK TOO LONG.

IT SITS WITH ME MAD MAD AM I,

ANOTHER CHANCE PLEASE PLEASE I ASK? 

TIME GONE FOREWARN CRY CRY DO I. 

I TELL MY TALE SPEAK SPEAK TO YOU. 

DON'T LET THE CHANCE FLEE FLEE I BEG. 

FOR ONLY ONE CHANCE CHANCE DO TAKE!

BE NOT LIKE ME HURT HURT I BE.

TAKE NOW THE CHANCE GLEE GLEE TO BE!!