Fourlinegraphia

In the jungle, big and wide, Lived a lion full of pride. With a roar so loud and strong, He sang the jungle’s morning song. An elephant stomped by the trees, Swinging his trunk in the breeze. A monkey jumped from vine to vine, Chattering, “This jungle’s mine!” A zebra ran with stripes so bright, A giraffe stood tall in golden light. A parrot squawked from up above, Filling the air with songs of love. The lion smiled and softly said, “No need to fear or run in dread. We share the jungle, you and me, Together we live happily!” So in the jungle, day and night, All the animals felt just right. With friends to laugh and play along, Their home was full of joy and song.                  

  We walk this fragile road as one, Beneath the moon, beneath the sun. We rise with hope, we break, we mend, Begin again where stories end. Life -a fleeting, trembling flame, Never steady, never same. Time, the magician, shapes and bends, Turning strangers into friends. Sometimes we whisper, what a fate, Sometimes, how did we escape? Sometimes silence is our prayer, Learning peace is already there. So chase not every ghostly call, Nor fear the shadows as they fall. Turn inward, where the quiet light Burns beyond both dark and bright. Sit in stillness, let thoughts sleep, Where the soul listens deep. No victory there, no losing fight, Only peace - gentle and bright. And when the quiet visitors depart, They leave their echoes in the heart. For in that silence, calm and true, Lives the love that carries you.

 Shadows in  soft, the quiet spirits move, Unseen companions in the life I choose. No footsteps fall, no knocking at my door - They come, they stay, then vanish once more. They walk beside me, they walk within, Invisible threads beneath my skin. Some arrive wearing laughter’s light, Some bring sorrow that darkens my night. Love comes softly, a gentle flame, Calling my heart by its secret name. Yet grief follows, slow and true, Teaching me what only loss can do. I call them fate, or luck, or chance, Miracles caught in a passing glance. Actors upon my timeless stage, Changing masks from age to age. My desires burn with restless fire, Pulling my soul ever higher and higher. I chase my dreams through endless skies, Not seeing the truth before my eyes. Joy and sorrow, woven tight, Threads of shadow stitched with light. They lift me high, then let me fall, Reminding me I am small after all. Life - a fragile, borrowed breath, A silent dance with time and death. When I hold too firmly...

  No tears remain for me to weep; my eyes lie barren, cracked and dry. In shadows where no rain is born, even the skies forget to cry. A silent ache, a hollow song, the heart grows tired, cold and worn; hope feels distant, stretched too long, like fields that wait for seasons gone. The endless summer, harsh and vast, presses heavy on breath and bone; veins that once with life ran fast now shrink in silence, all alone. The wandering birds of my soul, once fearless, rising wild and free, bury their heads in dust and soil, lost to a restless memory. My mind burns hot with every thought, a pyre of sorrow, fierce and deep; battles fought where none are fought, a weary heart denied its sleep. No gentle wind, no warm embrace, only echoes from before- forgotten light, a fading trace, soft footsteps at a closing door. Yet somewhere in this suffocating night a fragile spark refuses doom; a whispered promise, small but bright, a seed awakening in gloom. For even when the world feels dry, when...

We built our cities out of hunger, stacked glass and steel above the thunder, called it progress, called it fate, while something ancient learned to wait. We sold the air, we burned the seas, cut down our prayers in the form of trees. We named it growth. We named it pride. The rivers choked, but we looked aside. Children learned to dodge the sound of hatred marching through their towns. Some went to bed with empty hands, while others gambled borrowed lands. We drew our borders sharp as knives, measured worth in other lives. Skin and language, faith and name - different masks for the same old shame. The animals ran with nowhere left, the silence heavy, the planet cleft. Extinction whispered through the dark, a fading song, a dying spark. And still we fought for crowns of dust, for power built on fear and lust. We knew the cost, we paid it twice - a future traded at a price. Listen closely - the Earth is tired. Not angry. Just quietly expired. Hope survives, but bruised and thin, waiting...

  Amid the world's loud chorus, A whisper gently calls- To be authentic, true, Beyond the fleeting walls.   No need for shining masks, Nor crowds to validate, A quiet fire burns bright, A soul that knows its fate.   In kindness, strength resides, In patience, power gleams- The treasure of oneself, Born from honest dreams.   Let others judge or praise, Their voices fade away- My worth is mine alone, A dawn that greets each day.   From deep within, I rise, With sunlight in my step, Authentic, free, and whole, My spirit's true precept.