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Sadness isn’t always obvious. Sometimes it shows up quietly, more like a fading feeling than something sharp. It can feel heavy, or just kind of hollow, like there’s a gap where something used to be, even if you can’t quite explain it. It has a way of making you slow down and pay attention. To what hurts, to what’s missing, or to things that...

In shadows cast by stone and fear, I find myself, the path unclear. A dilemma looms, a heavy weight, Where do I turn? What lies in fate? Shall I trust the echoes of my mind, The wisdom gathered, the truths I find? Or delve within, where silence dwells, Into the chambers, where my spirit swells? With every breath, a whisper calls, Inward...

On a wave above the Moon a crimson silence froths Makes you forget yourself and hurts when you can’t laugh For when you try to touch the Moon but glide a little past This silence is forever and rhymes ‘a broken heart’

In Buddhism, there is a belief in the inevitability of suffering... which is conquered only through reincarnations, overcome only by attaining Nirvana. But I believe that love is a balm- it cannot undo pain but serves as a reminder that for every act of violence, there are others - of kindness, of charity and though many are...

I remember your perfume and how its fragrance and your essence made me giddy, like fine champagne from a crystal flute, sparkling, how they made me act the fool and not care as long as I could see you, touch you, inhale you, feel you open yourself to me, but time passed, the chill crept in, and you and my love are shells of themselves since you...

Why do I stand here, screaming? Into this stormy weather. Do I want to be heard, or am I to afraid? To get noticed… Why does it have to be? All or Nothing! I have you, I am happy. No one gets me, the world falls apart. Trying, but not hard enough Doing it all at once, no focus Try to focus, nothing gets done Screaming! So loud, but nothing. Fall...

Going into my garden this time of year is like seeing an aging friend. We used to talk of the future, now he speaks of the end. Strong, open arms that once hugged me grow more frail each visit it seems. He is wearing yellows and browns, I remember him in summery greens. Our words that seem business as usual are actually a long goodbye. I head...