Fourlinegraphia

 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.

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 ...

  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...

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.