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The Price of Us

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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...
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Inner Light

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  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.
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Little Dove and the Tiny Beans

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Little dove, soft and gray, Wakes her baby with the day. Flap, flap, wings so small, Morning sunshine warms them all. Down below on earthy ground, Tiny beans are waiting, found. “One for you, and one for me,” Sharing makes a happy tree. Some days food is hard to find, Cloudy skies and gusty wind. “Don’t you worry,” Mama coos, “Little hearts can still choose joy.” Other birds may fly away, When the hungry come to stay. Mama says, “Be soft, be kind, Gentle hearts are strong inside.” “Listen, child,” she softly sings, “Learning is a gift with wings. Knowledge sparkles, bright and true, Wisdom helps you know what to do.” “Understanding helps us see How to be the best we can be. Not knowing is the darkest night, Learning fills the world with light.” Baby flutters - up, then down! Oops! A tumble to the ground. Mama smiles, “That’s how you grow, Every try helps courage show.” Soon small wings begin to glide, Dancing lightly side by side. High above the fields so wide, Baby dove beams full of ...
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When Small Wings Learn the World

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  Morning arrives with a quiet ache, and I rise before the light can bloom. My baby sleeps beneath my wings, safe for now from the restless wind. The world is wide, yet food is small - a single bean, a fragile grace. We live on little, we learn to wait, for hunger teaches patient faith. Poverty walks beside us softly, not always seen, but always known; a living breath that feels like death, to exist and still feel alone. Yet poverty is only the beginning, never the end of the story’s thread. Determination rewrites what fate once believed was already said. I search the earth with careful eyes, finding meaning in scattered seeds. Knowledge is wealth no storm can steal, wisdom the treasure the spirit needs. Understanding grows like morning light, slowly warming a fearful sky; ignorance is the deepest poverty - a darkness where true visions die. You will stumble when you first fly, fall from branches, fear the air. Failure strips away false pride, but clearer truth is waiting there. Th...
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Will Heaven Shelter Me?

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Are you selling dreams that fade so fast, Like morning mist not meant to last? I hold bright hopes, though worn and thin, And feel the dark still pulling in. I look for heaven, a gentle place, Where quiet joy leaves a tender trace, Drawn by whispers, a fragile plea- Will heaven ever shelter me? I am carried by winds, both rough and kind, Leaving heavy sorrows behind, Through laughter’s glow and sorrow’s sting, I wonder if hope will always sing. I search for light in shadows deep, Where lonely hearts lie awake, not asleep, Through loss and rain, a weary climb- I wait for dawn in its gentle time. My dreams drift softly, wild and free, Across the world like memory, Chasing shores though far they seem, A fragile, waking, hopeful dream. Hope hums softly, low and clear, When I feel tired and linger here, Guiding my heart, worn and frayed, Toward a brighter path remade.
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Two Yeses

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  This love, it isn't just for me, It's where we both agree. Two little "yes" whispered low, Two hearts that choose to stay and grow. It's given back, a sweet return, A lesson learned, a fire that burns, But not just one light holding tight, Two flames together, burning bright. No points to keep, no game to play, Just kindness given, day by day. When you are there, I want to be, Your hand in mine, eternally. It doesn't need a grand display, It blossoms in the simple way. Quiet moments, work we share, Each ordinary day, we're there. We change and grow, it bends and sways, When one of us falls, it gently stays. Not 'cause we have to, but we long To build a future, safe and strong. Forever's not a shout up high, It's choosing you, as years go by. And when no one is watching near, To choose you still, year after year. While breath remains, and hearts still beat, To choose each other, oh so sweet.
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Beyond the Sale

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Love did not ask for a receipt. It was here before the algorithm learned our names, before desire was shrink-wrapped and shipped with same-day devotion. Every screen insists on roses, on diamonds rehearsing eternity, on couples posed like proof- as if affection needs witnesses to exist. They sell us passion in curated squares, teach hearts to perform for applause, teach longing to pose, smile, and wait for a double tap to feel real. But love is not louder when it’s branded. It is not truer because it trends. What of the quiet lives- the hands that reach for no one at midnight, the beds that remember a body now gone, the people who love deeply and are still alone? They are not lacking. They are not behind. They are not unfinished stories. The world would have you believe love is something you prove, something you purchase, something you display or else explain your absence. Refuse that lie. Love is the call you make without posting. The meal shared with no photograph. The patience to st...
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