The senior man who always turns up as human. A self-made, Evolving the world that is full of facade, So congratulations this time, With the equilibrium to balance the rhyme, To the experience that can

𝑆𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙. 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑, 𝑎 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠, 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡—ℎ𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡— 𝑘𝑒𝑝𝑡

source The ways of the Umpamugos. Is not to show itself, But to see itself. As to see, Evolves consciousness to be, And consciousness is not imaginary, Which is attached to mental imagery, Consciousness

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒 ... // 𝐿𝑎 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑑𝑒 𝑐𝑒𝑢𝑥 𝑞𝑢𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑙𝑒́𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠 ... // 𝐿𝑎 𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎 𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑖𝑠𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑎...

source Is not the son of none. It is so bright that it clears the route, In a way vivid enough for the foot, As the blockage couldn’t overshadow the sun's brightness, So to say that the entire scheme is

Ridding the B.O.A.T. source So to abbreviate it to the "B" of all time, The word known, So-called the poet. So let's be brief, Tagging on realization, As the blackest days passed. So too the

We’ll weather any stormy sky if we just pull together, with warmth and understanding that outlasts the rainy weather. So chin up, mates! Let’s carry on, with hope that’s bright and new, because a world

source The cat's tale. What did it know, So to show, Than to meow and grow. The one to observe, Staying with its creator as a half. Sometimes alone, Sometimes affectionately in tone. So what cosign it

Here I am entering my third act in much the same way the second one began, Keeping my eyes open for synchronicity, seeking out moments of joy scattered amongst the mounting losses, and melancholy, lingering.

source Leaving it to pile. Turning on the lights, Showing in counting bytes. It is not about fighting, Or to state what is right. It is a plight, Knowing that it is bright. To see the child, Having the

.... Watch out for us, dear ones We have put it all out for you Keep us in your prayers, generations Our bravery took us farther, in doom Don the hat, remove the shoes, salutations We who doom it near

The so-called broadest to reach. source It is just after round one, With a bit of calculation to none, That universe is the broadest one. Counting big digits, Needn't visits, So worth it credits, That's

It all makes a certain sort of sense, as long as cleverness doesn't get in the way. Experience, adding new layers, pushing memories into the margins as our journey takes on a deeper meaning. Yet dreary

When words spring from the heart, they cease to be mere grammar and become a vibrational frequency capable of crossing oceans and calming inner storms. In literary tradition, there is a long history of

The kind associated with rank. source Is it a crank? To laugh why the eyes are frank, Is it a prank? Reading from a book looking blank, Just as in the plank, Standing in the flank, To exude swank, The

It was all smiles on my big day still reflecting on the goodness of God. What shall I render to my creator? Speechless is what I am, short of words to say even though I have them, they cannot match what

Dear friends, I know we are living in uncertain times, which is why I have been writing this poem for a couple of weeks now, and I think today is the right day to publish it. I have used a free iambic

Life is short and we only get one, so why not make the most of it?

It’s tricky getting older, losing pieces of who I believed I was, finding quieter, more truthful and solitary pieces settling into their places. We all assume forever, then wake up one morning counting

In the Middle of Somewhere In the middle of somewhere, life suspends its breath, neither beginning nor end, only transit and mystery. There, time comes to a halt, we are not what we were, nor what we will