A collection of poems exploring love, darkness, memory, identity, emotion, imagination, and the many forms words can take.
No End to This (Excerpt) Before the first light learned to bend, before the stars had names to send, there was a quiet, waiting thread— and it was you, and it was said. The oceans rise, the mountains tire, the sun grows cold, the winds retire, but something in me does not cease— it only deepens, only peace. So let the ages come and go, let all the things we know, unknown. One truth remains, and it is this: there is no end to this.
I love you best before the world begins,When coffee steam is still a ghost in air,And sleep still lingers soft upon your skin—The early hush we neither need declare. The kettle hums its low and patient song,Your fingers trace the chipped edge of your cup;No grand confession makes the moment strong,But how you never rush …
Sand drifts through the hourglass of centuries,each grain a whispered name—Pharaoh, priest, lover, scribe—falling soft as linen on the breast of night. The Nile dreams in silver ribbons,winding through papyrus shadowswhere ibis birds trace hieroglyphsagainst the indigo throat of sky. Beneath the Sphinx's half-closed eye,pyramids hum with starlight,their limestone hearts rememberinga sun that once bowed …
Born of distant mountains, where rainbows kiss the stone,The Nile begins its journey, ancient and alone.Through desert sands it carves a path of liquid jade,A silver ribbon winding through the sun-baked glade. It carries secrets from the heart of Africa's dark,Past pharaohs' tombs and pyramids, it leaves its mark.The crocodile basks on banks of mud …
She stood where the sky softened into evening, her silhouette drawn in quiet ink against drifting clouds. The world felt paused around her, as if even time needed a moment to admire the way she belonged to both earth and sky at once. The clouds moved slowly, like whispered thoughts, brushing past her outline as …
Poem on Regret and Heartbreak When clocks forget the vows we used to keep,And sundials stain with shade where noon once glowed,I count the hollow hours, long and steep,That rose like bread but fell a heavier load. You were the hinge on which my mornings turned—Now dawns arrive unhinged, a gaping door.Each tick a tiny …
There’s a quiet kind of gravity in the way you look—like the world softened just to meet your gaze,like golden hours learned their warmthfrom California skies that shaped you. A gentle pause lives in your eyes,sunlit and endless,as if the coast itself whispered its calm into you—waves teaching you how to move softly,light teaching you …
The screen glows soft, the world's still new—and here you are. I'm glad you came.A quiet hour, a cup for two,no pressure, reader—just your name. The coffee's warm, the Wi-Fi's bright,no rush to scroll, no need to stay.Just morning spilling golden lighton words I hoped would find your day. So settle in. Uncurl your mind.The …
On a quiet lawn where sunlight breathes,Two gentle wanderers bow to the earth,Neck and feather in soft accord,Writing silence across the green. They do not hurry.They do not speak.Yet something passes between them—A language older than wind. The grass bends kindly beneath their steps,Each blade a witness to their calm,While shadows linger at their sidesLike …
Beneath the clockwork of eternal spheres,we trace the light of long-extinguished suns—each photon carries history, adrift for years,then lands as poetry on waiting tongues. And what are we but dust that learned to burn,then cooled to question why the heavens turn?We name the constellations, but they keepa silence deeper than the lunar sleep. Fate, that …