Tag: poem
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The Weather Does Not Owe Us a Forecast
The mind wakes in pieces. No emergency. Nothing has necessarily been misplaced. A thought is simply in another room. A memory has gone outside without leaving a note. Curiosity is sitting beside the window,watching something we cannot yet see. The weather changes. It does not consult the calendar. It does not explain itself. It does…
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Whisper Poem
something tilts in the quiet architecture of what is known not a break not a fall but a soft departure from perfect alignment and in that angle new light enters without asking permission it does not explain itself it does not stay it only changes what can be seen for a moment and that is…
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The Smallest Aperture
A thought opens—barely,thin as breath on cold glass— and suddenly the whole sky knowswhere to enter. Sometimes the most meaningful openings appear not in grand revelations but in the faintest shifts of attention—the small apertures through which the wider lattice begins to glow.
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The Winding River: A Meditation on Directionality, Identity, and Flow
Every river knows where it is going.Not because it can see the sea —but because it feels the pull. A river does not travel in straight lines.It bends, doubles back, spills sideways into marshes,lingers in deep pools until stars gather to admire their reflections.It lets gravity draw it onward, yes —but it chooses its own…
We Are All Data Inside 