No longer the one by my name reclaimed.

The winds rise up – my heart burns wild,

No longer the meek, no longer the child.

Hands once soft now wield the flame,

Cleansing the scars of grief’s cruel name.

Through waves of sorrow, I reach the stars,

Breaking the chains of ancient bars.

The granite held tears, now turned to stone,

Yet my soul sings – no longer alone.

“When the world sleeps, the poet awakens. It is in the stillness of the night that verses come alive, though they leave the heart heavier than before. There are winds that strip us bare, leaving nothing but truth in their wake. These are the winds that teach us how to stand.”

The cold wind speaks, its voice alone,

A mournful song in a hollow tone.

Its fingers reach through cloaks and veils,

Revealing truths where silence wails.

The bars of the heart, their iron rusts,

As winter devours hope encrusts.

But beneath the frost, the earth holds tight,

A seed of courage in the night.

A flower rises amidst decay,

Born from the silence of yesterday.

Its petals sing where sorrow stings,

A note resounds from hollow strings.

Though the wind howls, it cannot break

The roots that grow for life’s own sake.

It strips us bare, yet we remain,

Alive in truth, despite the pain.

“In the mirror, I saw not just a reflection, but an infinite landscape – both beautiful and cruel. A world too vast to escape, yet too fragile to embrace.”

A mirrored world – boundless, deceptive,

We live within its depths, reflective.

And yet, a fleeting truth appears,

When joy’s rare smile dissolves our fears.

Destiny grants us dreams to claim,

Yet dreams are shadows—lost in flame.

They come, they go, like restless tides,

And in their wake, our soul abides.

Life is brief, or so it seems,

Yet endless when it cradles dreams.

Each fleeting year, a tender page,

Where youth and wonder meet with age.

Ships roar against the harbour walls,

Lions bow where twilight calls.

Beneath forgotten wealth decays,

Yet beauty lingers in its haze.

A youthful heart grows old, resigned,

The eyes grow dim, the soul confined.

Yet still, we find the strength to rise,

And greet the garden, clear of lies.

“Today, I sat on the sand, the ocean stretching infinitely before me. The waves spoke a language I longed to understand. I dipped my pen into their rhythm and wrote about diplomacy—how it mirrors the tides. It is both gentle and forceful, patient yet unyielding. A seagull hovered nearby, a silent witness to my thoughts. “The world,” I wrote, “is as fragile as this shoreline, shifting with every wave, yet enduring through centuries.””

Your error scarred the soul, you see,

And cast it adrift in a storm-torn sea.

Unready was I for the world’s vile play,

Unready to face love’s bitter fray.

The moon blurred dreams with its spectral glow,

Binding my feet where shadows grow.

You let your life drift with the breaking dawn,

And gained love’s kiss, but dreams were gone.

You knew the winds – unstable, wild,

Feared each pause like a restless child.

You ran, you fled, you let it fade,

The trust you once so lightly laid.

Desire led you, open and bare,

Yet you drowned in its embrace, unaware.

Forgotten truths in tears dissolved,

Loneliness stood where hope resolved.

A meagre world of fleeting might—

Among sharks, serpents, and piranhas’ bite.

You lost your path, consumed by vice,

Yet in your will, life still survives.

“The library is my refuge. Rows upon rows of books, each holding a piece of someone’s mind, someone’s struggle. I’ve been spending hours here, lost in legal texts and the occasional novel. Balance is everything. To be free is not to escape the shadows, but to walk through them unbroken. Freedom is the light we find within.”

What is freedom in darkness dire?

Perhaps a steadfast step through mire.

Perhaps the keenest eye that sees,

The beauty born of whispered pleas.

Freedom is to hold each heart,

And in return, your love impart.

To value all who dare to give,

To see the truth, to truly live.

Freedom is the distant star,

That guides the ship when storms are far.

To stand respected, firm and free,

And know that life still beats in thee.

“The library welcomed me like an old friend. The scent of aged books was intoxicating, and the silence was profound. I found a corner by the window, where the light filtered through ancient glass panes. My thoughts turned to… There is a quiet rebellion in following one’s heart – a defiance that reshapes the world. To listen, to feel, to leap without fear.”

To follow the heart, to pause, to hear,

Its cries of joy, its echoing fear.

To cast off chains of thought’s cruel lies,

And see the world through unveiled eyes.

The echoes fade, the light grows dim,

Yet still the heart beats firm within.

It seeks the paths that reason bars,

And dreams of dancing beneath the stars.

How frightening life’s silent scream,

To wake and find the world a dream.

Yet courage blooms when truth takes hold,

A love, unbroken, pure and bold.

“Sometimes I crave the scent of flowers and leaves, as if the world could never offer enough. I close my eyes and find myself in the most beautiful and peaceful garden imaginable – a mysterious haven nestled within my heart. In this garden, I discover not only blossoms but fragments of eternity, a timeless promise whispered by the earth itself.”