By the shore, beneath the moon’s embrace,
A bottle drifted—a timeless trace.
The waves, relentless, sang their song,
Of broken paths and where I belong.
Perhaps the hour has now begun,
To bare my truth beneath the sun.
A letter scrawled with trembling hand,
To plead, to mourn, to understand.
“Forgive me,” I wrote, “my final plea,
For sins unspoken, lost at sea.
For tarnished love, once pure and bright,
Now swallowed whole by endless night.
Forgive my restless, reckless ways,
The wounds I left, the debt that stays.
Forgive the words, sharp as the tide,
Born of despair I could not hide.
Forgive my doubt, my fleeting trust,
The dreams reduced to windswept dust.
Forgive the paths I walked in gloom,
The bridges burned, the seeds of doom.
Forgive the years that passed in haze,
The shadowed nights, the empty days.
And yet, forgive me not, if you cannot,
For I am lost—a soul forgot.”
I sealed the note with trembling breath,
And cast it to the waves of death.
The ocean claimed it, pulled it deep,
To cradle truths I could not keep.
Yet in the stillness, hope remained,
A fragile thread, though faint, sustained.
That somewhere, far beyond this shore,
Life waits, renewed, forevermore.
THE BULLET FLEW TWICE OVER
“I love reading the news, but it must be true—something rare in a world where truth is elusive. What does truth mean? Does it have boundaries? Can it exist always, yet shift in different realities? For lawyers, truth is a weapon and a shield, wielded in the arena of reason and evidence. But truth, in its rawest form, is neither kind nor forgiving. The weight of violence lingers long after the shot is fired, staining the soul with echoes of what cannot be undone.”
The bullet flew twice, breaking the skies,
Its path unseen by blinded eyes.
A rival fell where silence reigned,
While shadows deepened, truth remained.
“You sought the stars, the fated lore,
Yet darkness claimed you evermore.
Through fields of rage, through endless pain,
You chased the heavens but found disdain.”
The bullet’s song, a mournful sound,
Its echoes haunt the hollowed ground.
A whisper crawls through bloodied air,
Who bears the blame? Who dares declare?
A single voice, a trembling cry,
“Yes, I – yes, I, and none but I.”
The bridges burn, the rivers dry,
Yet no redemption meets the eye.
What is the cost of justice’ name?
A fleeting truth, a lasting shame.
The Pegasus rides through storms of wrath,
But leaves no light along its path.
The bullet flew twice, and still it flies,
Through fractured hearts, through silent skies.
For truth may burn, or truth may heal,
Yet its wounds remain, forever real.
SHE SAT BY THE WINDOW
“Diary, … Grief has a voice that no one hears, yet its whispers linger in the depths of our eyes.”
She sat by the window, serene yet pained,
Her silken gown with moonlight stained.
A thread unraveled, caught mid-air,
As shadows wove through her auburn hair.
Her sapphire gaze, deep and wide,
Held secrets only stars confide.
A single tear refused to fall,
A silent sentinel through it all.
“Forgive me,” she whispered, soft and clear,
“To the winds that carry my lingering fear.
Forgive the sorrow I did not choose,
Forgive the hope I dared to lose.
For in the depths of night, I grieve,
A thousand truths I cannot weave.
I mourn not him, but dreams betrayed,
A fragile life that could not stay.
I sought his voice, his steady hand,
But he walks now in another land.
Was it my heart, too proud, too still,
That let the echoes break my will?
Oh heavens, vast, unyielding, cold,
Do you mock my tears with tales untold?
Do you scatter dreams like brittle glass,
Leaving splinters where love might pass?
I wear no shame, though grief is mine,
It shapes my soul, its aching shrine.
I do not weep for what is gone,
But for the silence, now withdrawn.
For his absence carves a sacred space,
A quiet, hallowed, timeless grace.
No blame, no anger, no regret,
But a love unspoken, quietly met.”
The dawn crept in with gentle light,
Its golden hues dispelling night.
And though her sorrow did not fade,
Her spirit stood, unbent, unfrayed.
For honour lies in bearing pain,
With dignity that does not wane.
And through her tears, the world could see,
The strength of her eternity.
YOU CAME TO ME IN THE DAWN
“Dreams speak the language of the soul, and sometimes, their voices call us to truths we dare not face…”
You came to me in the dawn of light,
A phantom, weaving through the night.
A tender fire, a fleeting flame,
I wished to hold you, call your name.
Yet you, an ember, distant, dim,
Slipped through the folds of my fragile whim.
In the haze of sleep, your visage stayed,
A bittersweet ghost, a love betrayed.
If only, I thought, your heart were real,
If only you knew the depth I feel.
Yet dreams, deceitful, weave their guise,
And I awake to an empty sky.
Find me not in fleeting thought,
But in the truths your heart has sought.
Find me where the light does break,
Where sorrow bends but does not quake.
Find me, though shadows cloud the way,
And cradle me through night to day.
Find me, and I shall find you too,
Forever bound, our love renewed.
WHAT IS FREEDOM?
“Freedom is not a gift bestowed by the world; it is the courage to seek truth when all else is veiled.”
