I stand in the shadow of thought and time,
A fleeting echo, a silent rhyme.
Questioning whispers cloud my mind,
Seeking truths I may not find.
I know I am. I breathe, I see,
Yet, purpose drifts away from me.
A puzzle missing half its frame,
A candle flickering without a flame.
The stars don’t answer, the wind won’t say,
Still, I rise to greet the day.
Perhaps the reason lies in me.
Not to know, but just to be.
Hey there! So, you’ve stumbled upon my little corner of the internet. Let’s get one thing straight: I have no idea where this blog is going. One day, I might be waxing poetic about the meaning of life. The next, I could be raving about the perfect shade of blue for my kitchen. It’s basically…
In shadows rest the porcelain faces,Fractured lines in delicate traces.Once pristine, now worn with time,Their cracks a silent, mournful rhyme. But see the light that gently falls,Upon these tender, broken dolls.Each flaw is a mark of stories told,Of love once fierce, of hands that hold. Their eyes still gleam, though chipped and scarred,A testament to…
The muse, a whispered, fragile thing,By daily clamor, it fails to sing.A screen’s bright glow, a buzzing phone,Distract the seed, before it’s sown. The endless tasks, a heavy chain,Where “later” echoes, dull and vain.And fear, that shadow, dark and deep,Keeps slumbering visions fast asleep.