Category: Uncategorized

• The Inner Flame

  Who is to know the fate of the thousands

  If the hand that wields arms flinch

  We are not alive just because the stars aligned

  We are breathing because the flame burns too wild to cease

  Some may call it strength and admire the flame

  Some may name it insidious and cast it a wicked fame

  There is no glory in walking amongst the dead

  For the dead writes as much history as the living

  Exposition: Who is to know the fate of your future if you yourself hesitate with every step? In every person, there is a fire in them that keeps them alive. Sometimes it may translate as stubbornness or insistence that makes others uncomfortable. Who cares if someone judges our inner fire just because they are without their own? There is no glory in trying to fit in when you know being a mindless chameleon is only going to make you miserable.

  30th July 2026

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• Love Began As A Pulse

  Love began as a pulse.

  In the dark, cradled by the universe newly-formed, was a small creature.

  This creature knew not words, not just yet, but its eyes were crystalline, and its fingers reached forth, learning the shape of the deep darkness. The shape was one of an embrace – the only thing the darkness knew to do.

  Slowly, gently, the creature explored the dark. The void was a nurturing parent. It didn’t take long – in fact it was instinctive – that the creature began learning its first steps.

  Learning to reach out.

  Learning to stretch its fingers, move its legs.

  Learning to smile.

  And then learning to love.

  Love began as a pulse, and by that I mean the primordial form of love, love in its rawest form. It began when the creature first dawned its eyes, and because trust was a constant, love began to blossom.

  Love did not begin as a contract of pain, struggles, envy and cycles. Love bloomed in the warmth of curiosity, trust and openness.

  We are all capable of this purest form of love.

  It is in us all along.

  Think of the people, places and things that spark curiosity, trust and openness in you. You have no need to second guess the love they spark in you, for it is a constant, as steady as the air flow.

  We love, as naturally as we breathe.

  25th July 2026

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• Hope

  Hope does not have to be where dreams linger.

  Sometimes hope is the wild-eyed orphan that stalks across landscapes of shuffling masses – known as life – a deep-seated, blissfully- satiated normalcy.

  Or it could be that hope is just the quiet trickle of hopefully not messing up a thing. You trod through life, learning some things, losing some, but hey, nothing’s perfect. So nothing’s wrong.

  You’ll know which to trust – the unhoused orphan or the phantom trickle, hopefully, when you see them.

  Or better yet, trust neither – trust the third that comes along. The dark carries charm, or so they say.

  Interpret this poem as you will. I myself don’t know what I just wrote.

  25th July 2026

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• The Light

  I die of embarrassment.

  My thin skin stretches, to the hollows of self-plight. If I had smiled a little more genuinely, curated the right words out of my foamy, fragrant mouth, copied their spirits down to the T, I would have shame less brutal and unforgiving than the Gates of Hell!

  But no, I had to smile a little more crookedly, perhaps showing a bit of yellowing teeth, perhaps I had been too awkward, maybe they’d have accepted my form if I had leaned into theirs a bit. So I keep dying, and dying, and dying all the same. I don’t just socialise – I survive plights. There is nothing as dramatic and damning as a stranger’s passing remark. Their approval hangs on high beams, and the light suffocates. None of my kind escapes the light. We welcome it. We were moths born from it, bathed in it, molded from it, and so the Light is a language we speak fluently. The Light is a code we do not break. The Light is a dream we chase, chase, and keep chasing.

  For none leave the Light, unless one sees it for what it is, and when that happens, life would still go on – the Light unharmed, a tower of adoration.

  But it would mark a new beginning.

  The thinly-stretched skin would stretch beyond the bones, baring the depths, and not a shred of shame would bleed. My foamy mouth would leak not fragrance, but thought – simmered, boiled, served. My Light would glow from within, not without. My truth would flower from the heart, not from high beams.

  And yet the moth… the moth would stay. For the moth is never to be blamed for seeking light.

  Light.

  What a word, and worlds within this word.

  Choose wiser, little moth.

  25th July 2026

  emotions, poetry, social-anxiety, writing, writing-therapy

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• Morning Glory

  I wondered how morning glories get their name

  Until I saw their climb

  Up, up, over and up

  Chasing the sun

  Grace in every twist and turn

  The sun smiles for its lovely guest

  Purple trumpets sing merry praises

  Glorious is their climb

  Beauty accompanies them

  *

  Exposition: Morning glories do not have strong enough stems to support themselves. However, strength isn’t defined by having a strong stem. Morning glories cling to nearly supports with tendrils to aid their rise. This adaptability is their strength. Don’t compare yourself with others if you are not conventionally strong, attractive or smart. Learn from morning glories and rise your own way.

  21st October 2024

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• The Real You

  You know I see you

  The real you that you tuck away like an embarrassing sin

  The one whose smile duets with the evening sun

  Who dances in the rain with a clear umbrella

  Sings to the moon

  You know I see the real you

  Never far away like how you told yourself

  She’s ever present, here even as we speak

  She’s here

  Dancing still, singing still

  And in your lost gaze I still see glimpses of her smile

  She is alive still

  And she is proud of you

  *

  Exposition: Ever hidden your true self from people, even the ones closest to you? Are you ashamed of yourself? I am. If you spend too long hiding behind a mask, you become the mask, leaving your true self forgotten. Do you remember who you have been before shame overwhelmed you, making you feel as if you are too much of an embarrassment? This poem is about healing low self worth, reuniting with your true self and honoring who you are.

  20th October 2024

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