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The lonely moon

 High above the restless earth, the moon drifts in silence, a pale wanderer in the ocean of endless night. She floats alone, wrapped in a veil of silver glow, watching the world below, yet never touching it. Stars scatter like diamonds across her darkened bed, but even their twinkling cannot soften her solitude. She gazes at oceans that rise to greet her pull, yet no wave can whisper back the love she longs to hear. The mountains bow beneath her gentle light, the forests shimmer in her borrowed grace, the rivers carry her reflection through valleys, but still, she remains untouchable, unseen, unheard. Once, she dreamed of the sun, his blazing heart a warmth she could never hold. By day, she hides, letting his fire rule the sky, while she waits in shadow, her love unspoken, her longing endless. Children look up and weave her into stories, lovers kiss beneath her glow and call her a blessing, poets write her name in verses of sorrow and beauty, yet none can truly know her ache— the a...

Dream

 In the stillness of night when the world lies asleep, Dream drifts in silence, vast and deep. A tapestry woven of shadow and light, A lantern of hope in the corridors of night. It whispers of places we’ve never known, Of seeds of wonder we’ve quietly sown. Mountains of crystal, oceans of flame, Worlds without borders, untouched by name. Dream bends the rules that waking life keeps, It lifts the spirit, it softens grief. It takes broken pieces and paints them anew, With colors so endless, with skies ever blue. We fly without wings, we dance without sound, We speak to the stars, though none are around. We meet the lost faces of love from the past, And hold them in moments too fragile to last. Dream teaches courage when fear takes its hold, It turns the timid into the bold. It carries the weary through deserts of pain, And promises gently that joy will remain. Yet fragile it is, like morning mist, Fading when daylight’s fingers insist. But still it lingers, a spark in the soul, A map...

Whispers of flesh

 In the quiet hum of midnight, Two shadows converge, A dance older than words, A rhythm carved in pulse and breath. Fingers trace the edges of yearning, Mapping the contours of vulnerability, A language without letters, Spoken in sighs and shivers. The world outside dissolves, Time bends and folds Around the heat of proximity, The tender clash of bodies seeking truth. Eyes meet like open doors, Inviting secrets, The trust of skin pressed to skin, A covenant beyond promise. Breath mingles, shallow and deep, A tide of anticipation rising, Each touch a question, Each tremor an answer. Pleasure blooms like a hidden garden, Fragrant and secret, Where every caress is both compass and map, Leading to the heart’s quiet altar. Not all passion is fire; Some is the steady pulse Of lips tracing love’s ancient script, The comfort of a hand held in the dark. In this union, there is both surrender and claim, A sacred geometry of closeness, Where two become mirrors of desire, And the body speaks t...

Humanity

 In the quiet dawn, when the world awakes, Humanity stirs, and the earth softly shakes. From the humble heart to the soaring mind, A tapestry woven, all colors combined. Through the laughter of children, innocence pure, And the silent tears, when pain finds a cure, We stumble and falter, yet rise and strive, In the pulse of life, we are truly alive. Hands that build, hands that heal, Hands that break, and hands that kneel. In every gesture, a story is spun, Of battles fought, of races run. The deserts whisper of thirst and fight, The oceans roar with endless might. Mountains echo the dreams we chase, In every corner, humanity leaves its trace. We carry love in fragile bones, We speak in a thousand tongues, yet moan. Bound by blood, by earth, by sky, By the questions we ask, and the reasons why. Forgive, forget, and hold with care, The fragile lives we all must share. From cities bright to villages small, Humanity rises, and sometimes falls. In the gaze of strangers, a mirror we fin...

What is Happiness

 Happiness is a morning light, gentle and bright, A whisper of dawn chasing away the night. It dances in the dew on a leaf’s tender edge, A promise that life is more than a solemn pledge. It’s the laughter of children, ringing so clear, Echoing hope that all hearts long to hear. It lives in the warmth of a hand held tight, In the quiet of stars that pierce the night. Happiness is the scent of rain on dry earth, A subtle reminder of life, love, and rebirth. It grows in the gardens of small, simple things, In the song a bird from its perch joyously sings. It is not in gold, nor the treasures we chase, But in the soft moments time cannot erase. It hides in the corners of ordinary days, In the humble acts that go unseen, ablaze. It is found in forgiveness, a heart let free, In the courage to face what is yet to be. It blooms in the mind that chooses to see, The silver threads woven in life’s tapestry. Happiness is laughter shared under rain, The healing of sorrow, the easing of pain. I...

The eternal river

  A silver thread begins in the highland ’s breast, Born from the whisper of snow and cloud’s rest. It tumbles through rocks with a youthful cry, A mirror of freedom beneath the sky. The river sings where silence once lay, Carving the earth in a patient way. Each drop a traveler, each wave a song, Carrying time as it journeys along. It gathers the rain, the mountain’s tears, It carries the weight of forgotten years. Villages bloom along its side, Children laugh where the waters glide. The river listens to secrets untold, Stories of lovers, the timid, the bold. It knows the roots of the willow’s bend , It knows where beginnings and endings blend. At dawn it shimmers with golden light, At dusk it glows with a softer sight. Moonbeams dance on its endless skin, As stars above lean gently in. The river teaches with every flow, That strength is gentle, and peace may grow. Though stones may block and storms may roar, It finds its way, forever more. And when it reaches the ocean wide, It...

Song of begger

 The world doesn’t belong to beggar, Nor to hands forever raised in plea. It belongs to the dreamer, the doer, To those who dare shape destiny. A beggar waits on empty streets, Eyes searching for a coin, a crumb, But time is merciless, swift, unseen, And silent winds remind what’s to come. The earth belongs to the worker’s stride, The farmer tilling the stubborn land, The artist painting with fire inside, The builder with calloused, steady hand. The world belongs to those who climb, Who stumble yet rise with stronger will, Who write their name on the walls of time, Refusing to bow, refusing to still. A beggar’s cup may echo hollow, But courage fills the heart of the brave; Tomorrow waits for those who follow The path they carve, not the one they crave. The world belongs to the seeker’s voice, To hearts that burn with noble flame, To souls who walk with tireless choice, And claim their place without shame. The world is not a coin to spare, Nor mercy tossed upon the floor; It is a ga...