Sit And Speak.

Seeing counts with memory,

Depth understood in recognition,

Ambition skewed by glory,

Persisting focus self sought.

Joy in worship and service,

Cheeky comedy and grin,

Mysteries of spritual secrecy,

Reside now clear certainty.

Crumbled, Not Collapsing.

They’re shaped thin and wide,
Pressed flat yet agile,
Beneath the skin they glide,
Feeding of the soul and bile.

Such fears make our Fate,
The land’s surface is abandoned,
Barren voices float of drain grates,
Hope arises from cutting through pain.

Echos of The Mind.

In the room with curtains, no walls to bind,

The wind walks in like an old, lost friend.

A one-eyed cat keeps watch, half-blind,

While silence curls at each loosened end.

The city hums through fabric thin,

A breathless space that does not keep.

No door to close, no way to win—

Just wind, and fur, and nights without sleep.

And one soft eye that never weeps.