Remembering every insult, every humiliation, each tiny wrongdoing, she twists. Turns her pillow over, fighting a wee-hour battle with her worthy opponent: Insomnia. But such forces as the one we know intimately, yields to no shadow master.
When dusk comes // and it is time to bow out // all that ever mattered // is weighed up // (not in words). // She who conquered fear was a master in her own right.
Childhood. // An eternity of slowing down // of peering, stopping, noticing the smallness // making sense of vastness // creating universes // and picking them apart.
You were never meant to linger here, Natalie, do somersaults in my belly // chill my bloodstream // mess with my brain.// My first published short story, 'Natalie', plays with the concept of reality.
As the November sun climbs higher // Soon to disappear out of view // I feel it // in every fiber of my being //Fall is not farewell. It is a quiet celebration// A subtle defiance// A rebellion of sorts// A dance of life.
Why am I here? Is the universe kind? Is there a future for humanity? Is there a God? What is the story of my life?
If I can have just a glimpse // of what fuels this valley // It's what I came for // What I call out for // What echos back // What I miss most // When it's lost in the woods.
His corner of the world was one of concrete His soles raw from cold cobblestones (yet all he saw was shoes.) The answer to everyone's riddle is there: in his rags, his unkempt mane, his bruised and scarred arms.
Time will come for you, like all others. It will whisper that you, too, could run free. Your wings will spread, longing for purpose. You will fly skywards erratically, like the mayfly on a clear summer day. How I will miss you, my companions, as I roam these empty rooms.