Fourlinegraphia

  All things that bloom must answer unto dusk. No flame, however fierce, escapes the night. The world is but a passage carved by time, Where shining forms grow fragile in its wake. I was not born to perish in the dust. Once I wore emerald and bright gold flame. The morning sun would rest upon my face, And I would answer light with living glow. In careful hands I found a gentle home, Wrapped close in silk and guarded as a prize. Within my hollow chest lay secret dreams, Like hidden grain preserved for winter’s need. I held small hopes as one holds fragile fire, And trusted love would never turn away. But time, with silent fingers, marked my frame; A subtle fracture split my shining side. I know "No soul nor sorrow lingers here for long. All forms must fade beneath the patient sky. We come as light and vanish into dusk; Impermanence is all we truly own." No thunder warned me of what would be lost; Decay arrived in whispers, slow and sure. Abandonment consumed my hopeful core, T...

  Why are you silent, little bird of my heart? Do you cradle honeyed dreams- or hide a sorrow that will not depart? You linger where unspoken words remain, in tender shadows of secret pain. Your eyes search galaxies yet untold, a quiet universe, gentle and bold. Beyond the river of unshed tears, past the hush of waiting years, there waits a sky of silver flame- come with me, I’ll call your name. Like dawn’s first light I’ll break your night, soft and certain, warm and bright. With careful hands I’ll gather your fears, and turn lonely hours to golden years. A fortress of care I’ll build for you, steadfast, sheltering, deep and truethful. No storm too wild, no dark too steep- my promise is yours alone to keep. I’ll play love’s flute at morning’s rise to wake the stars within your eyes. Music will bloom in every space, a living hymn of quiet grace. Flowers will open where you tread, hope in every word unsaid. Why hide like the moon behind a cloud when your light was meant to sing alou...

When the world is hushed and slow,   Your name inside begins to glow.   In quiet moments, soft and bright,   Love’s gentle whisper takes its flight.      It’s not a spark that fades away,   But a warm and steady ray-  A promise kept, a vow renewed,   A choice to love, forever true.      Not just words or fleeting sight,   But choosing you through day and night.   In busy times or peaceful rest,   To hold you close, I do my best.      When sun wakes up or stars appear,   I say again, I hold you near.   With every breath, with all my might,   I choose you still, with pure delight.      Love’s not a moment’s fleeting flame,   But a light that calls your name.   A gentle dance, a steady song,   To love you right where I belong.      Chosen, again and...

  In the quiet dawn of every new day, before the sun fully finds its place in the sky, love speaks not in thunder, not in urgency, but in a whisper strong enough to steady two trembling hearts. It is not a single spark that dazzles and disappears into memory. Not a passing tide that kisses the shore only to retreat. It is a quiet, steady flame  one we shelter with open hands when winds begin to rise. Love is not bound to fleeting feeling, nor chained to moments of ease. It is built slowly through patient healing, through tender words spoken in truth, through eyes that remain open even when tears gather. It grows roots deep in the soil of the soul - roots watered by forgiveness, strengthened by storms, proven by the days when staying would be easier to abandon. And yet it does not bind. It does not cage or command. It frees the heart, calms the mind, and invites us gently back through joy and pain alike. It blooms in ordinary grace in shared silences, in small smiles acros...

Your memories gleam - a lucid bright, Like honey held in tempered light; They rise within the hush of morn And gild the hours newly born. In silver currents, slow and deep, They thread the chambers where I sleep; They fill the chalice of my soul Beyond all boundary or control. They overflow the tender brim Into my heart’s receptive dim; A drop - then one more, soft and slow - Falls lighter than love’s undertow. And where they rest, they bloom and shine In petals steeped in amber wine; They linger on my waiting tongue Like sacred hymns still left unsung - A sweetness veiled, a secret fire, At once fulfillment and desire. My eyes grow heavy with their dew, As though they drink the shade of you; A quiet warmth begins to rise, A living flame behind my eyes. The world beyond may surge and roar Like restless tides along the shore, Yet here the air is hushed and sweet, With honeyed stillness at my feet. You are the salt, you are the bread, The silver thread through all I’ve led; Like ink that...

  I listened to the world’s loud call, Tried to fit within their wall, But in my heart, I knew the way- A quiet voice that guides my day.   No need to chase the fleeting praise, No need to shrink, to hide, or maze, I walk my path with gentle grace, A steady heart, a sacred space.   My worth is not in eyes that see, But in the love that lives in me, In truth that whispers soft and clear- My soul’s own song, my voice sincere.   Rain or shine, I stand my ground, In peace, my true self is found- Beauty blooms where honesty sings, This is my life, my choice, my wings.

In the vast arena of life’s endless race, Where dreams and realities interlace, A horse may gallop with relentless might, Its muscles coiled with strength, a blazing light.   Its heart burning toward the finish line- Yet victory’s not solely by instinct divine. For triumph does not lie in power alone, But in the guidance that shapes the throne.   It’s the rider’s hand, steady and wise, Guiding through both lows and highs, With decisions made in the moment’s grace, And reins of purpose held in place.   Strength alone cannot claim the prize, For skill is born of patience and wise eyes. In science, in arts, in all we pursue, It’s the mind’s imagination that breaks through.   Great experiences, like treasures stored, Shape the soul and strengthen the core, A rich mind, a world in bloom, Fosters creations that dispel the gloom.   The reins themselves are nothing but leather and thread; It is the wisdom that moves them- That makes them art ins...