Poetry of You

But your presence 

Makes me question my past.

Of chances I did not take,

Of risks I did not dare.

And now, 

All I can do is indulge,

In the poetry 

Of you.

Cause even if chances 

Come my way again,

It is not right to take it.

And even if I dare,

The risk is no longer 

As nice as it was once.

And all I can do now,

Is indulge,

In the poetry 

Of you.

 Oh! But the world won't stop...
Even if we pause.

But what if I crossed 

Your mind?

Would you pause 

And linger in my memory?

And if I am your beautiful ghost,

Will you let me haunt you...

Forever?

 But what if 

Heartbreaks are meant 

For love to seeped through?

Would you go through the process, 

The brokenness and hurt,

Just to be filled in?

 I was never certain,

No! I was never sure.

Yet, I burned the ships anyway,

Even the bridges, I set into fire.

But not out of recklessness,

Not because I was not scared.

I was trembling, yes...

But my heart knows, for once,

I meant every flame.

For Slow Afternoons

 Before the grinding starts...

 But with you, even the chaos 

Becomes a beautiful catastrophe.

And the quiet moments, 

Beautiful connections.

 But if you love autumn,

Then you should know

How beautiful it is...

To fall.

Somewhere Between Love and Guilt

Somewhere between love and guilt,

I crawled back to you...

Though every part of me resisted,

My heart forgot which way to go through.

And in the grayest shade of all,

I am stuck imagining if I could be the one too.

Somewhere between love and guilt,

There you are standing on either side,

Your face is the ghost I cannot bury,

Your presence is where my shadows hide.

I search for somewhere safe to go,

But everywhere I turn, it is you, I find.

Somewhere between love and guilt,

I remain a phantom in a borrowed dream lake.

Loving you in a whisper,

Is the most quiet kind of heartbreak.

Where the spaces in between the heart's desires and what the soul knows, 

You are both the poison and cure in this burning ache.

The Equilibrium of Energy: An Alternative Perspective on Gravity (A Hypothesis of Universal Balance)

What if gravity, as we understand it, is not the force that pulls us toward the Earth? What if the reason we remain grounded, rather than floating freely into space, is not simply the existence of gravity within the Earth's core, but an equilibrium of energy that exists around us? What if it is not merely a force pulling us toward its center, but a greater equilibrium of energy that exists throughout our surroundings and extends into the universe?

We have long been taught that gravity is the force responsible for keeping us on the surface of the Earth. According to conventional scientific understanding, the Earth attracts objects toward its center because of its mass. This explanation has allowed us to understand many of the physical phenomena around us, from falling objects to the movement of planets. Yet, beyond the explanation we have inherited, there is another question worth exploring: Could the phenomenon we call gravity be challenged? Could it be because of the broader relationship between energy, balance, and the environment in which the Earth exists? Could it be that there is really no such thing as gravity, but rather the equal forces that surround the Earth, its atmosphere, and the greater universe.

My hypothesis begins with the concept of equilibrium. Perhaps the distribution and interaction of energy throughout our surroundings play a role in determining how matter behaves. If energy exists throughout a system, could its distribution create conditions that influence the position and movement of objects within that system? Could the apparent stability of our position on Earth be related to a larger structure of energetic interactions that we do not yet fully understand?

Imagine that energy exists in a state of equilibrium across the Earth's surface and its surroundings. If this energy is distributed in a way that maintains balance in every direction, could that balance be the reason we remain where we are rather than floating away? Perhaps the same energy that maintains our position along the Earth's curved surface is part of a greater system of equilibrium, one that extends beyond the planet itself.

From this perspective, the phenomenon we call gravity might be reconsidered as an effect of a larger interaction of energy. Instead of imagining the Earth as merely pulling everything toward its core, we might ask whether the conditions that keep objects grounded emerge from the relationship between the planet and its surrounding environment. Could equilibrium itself play a role in explaining why we remain attached to the Earth's surface?

In this perspective, equilibrium does not necessarily mean that every force cancels out equally in every direction. Rather, it raises the possibility that the distribution of energy and the interactions within a system may be fundamental to understanding its behavior. If a universal energetic structure exists, its influence might be expressed through patterns of motion, stability, and attraction. What we identify as gravity could then be examined in relation to this broader structure, rather than considered only in isolation.

However, for this idea to become a scientific theory, a viable hypothesis would need to establish how the proposed energy distribution creates a directional effect, how that effect varies with distance and the mass of celestial bodies, and how it accounts for the motions of planets and satellites. These questions are not reasons to dismiss the idea; they are the challenges that any alternative explanation must address.

Perhaps, then, the purpose of questioning gravity is not to reject established knowledge outright, but to examine whether the principles behind familiar phenomena can be understood more deeply. Science progresses by asking questions, testing assumptions, and developing explanations that can withstand observation and experimentation. An idea becomes stronger not simply because it challenges convention, but because it offers a mechanism that can be investigated and tested. Whether this equilibrium could really challenge the gravity, contributes to another physical phenomenon, or points toward a different interpretation remains an open question within this hypothesis.

Perhaps the universe is not merely a collection of separate objects acting upon one another, but an interconnected system whose properties emerge from deeper relationships between matter, energy, space, and motion. If so, understanding our place within that system may require us to look beyond familiar explanations and ask not only what keeps us grounded, but why the universe behaves as it does.

The search for an answer begins with a question: What if it was never in the center of the Earth, but on the surface? What if it is not really gravity, but the equilibrium that surrounds us?

Author’s Note: 

This idea emerged during a conversation with my thirteen-year-old daughter about the nature of scientific theories and the importance of questioning established knowledge. As I explained to her that even widely accepted theories must remain open to scrutiny, she asked me for an example. 

The thought that followed was an attempt to challenge our conventional understanding of gravity. 

After explaining my idea to her, I found myself intrigued by what I had proposed. It was spontaneous and what began as a simple example in a mother-daughter conversation, it grew into a hypothesis I myself wonder.

Hollowed be Thy Thorny Crown

 Oh! Unqueenly bee who art in throne,

Hollowed bee thy thorny crown.

As hollow as thy brain,

Is thy empire of shame.

Hail! My lady you're full of blaze,

Such a mother of disgrace.

Thou art rubbish among women,

Thou are not worthy to speak the word Amen.

Glory be to the chains of wisdom,

Ye never had in thy kingdom,

For as it was in the beginning,

Thou wilt fall by the ending.

Parachute

I swear I did not mean to fall,

But how can I refuse the sky,

When the blue became your name,

Seducing me to fly toward your flame.

I swear I did not mean to fall,

But the void seems so kind,

The wind is the hush cradling my heart,

So light, like clouds guiding my path.

But gravity learned about my wings,

And for a moment claimed me as its own,

Reminding me that the earth is my home,

I found myself crashing and alone.

And if everything has a price to pay,

Even wishes make a star fall at night,

Leaving my sky empty and sad,

Mirelune, without a glow in sight.

Then let me land safely in your arms,

Be every hope I never spoke of,

The presence in the absence of all,

The parachute that saves me from the fall.

In my ruins, be my sanctuary,

Defying all the loss my heart endures,

The thread that lifts a curve to my mouth,

The ink that makes every scar beautiful for you.

The Tattooed Man in Black

He walked in a black suit,

Black tie, and tattoos,

Quiet yet commanding,

In laws only he pursues.

He is the Bishop.

The master of his own altar.

Striking like a whisper from blind corners,

On black squares, dark and diagonal from afar.

And the pawns can’t help but bow,

While the horses fall back from his silent attacks.

He is a blade forged in the dark.

He is the tattooed Man in black.

P.s. for the godson from the South

Of All the Shades of Red

Of all the shades of red

You carry inside your heart,

You blame it on the girls,

Saying they stained it from the start.

But that was never even paint

That your heart was soaked in instead,

Just red flags growing deep

In the roots beneath your thread.

Of all the shades of red

That you harbor in your soul,

You call it something sweet,

Till the sheets begin to unfold.

It was never love to begin with,

Just games you chose to play,

That brings forth all the hues of gray,

Even in the sunniest of days.

Of all the shades of red

That cloak you like a flame,

It wears you thin with time

Yet you still feed the same.

The red never fades...

It stains black on your hollow face,

And you keep all your flags waving,

With all the shades of red.

Footnotes:

To all the Patricks we have encountered... May we never cross paths with them again.

PS. There are 3 sides in every story... 

1. His Side 

2. Her Side 

3. Truth 

I'm choosing 2...

Because sometimes even the truth is not quite Right.

The First Times

There is something sacred in first times.

The act of courage

When you don’t know

What lies beyond the line.

The rush of adrenaline,

The hush that follows,

Those trembling hearts,

The wounds and scars.

But there is something sacred in first times.

The fear that lingers

Long after the fall,

The moment that flickers

Like a dying glow.

That second you remember

You were never in control,

And faith was all you had to keep your soul.

But there is something sacred in first times.

And it will never come again.

No chance to have another first—

Everything else

Becomes second or third.

You’ll miss it or you’ll make it,

Either way, you held it…

And then it’s gone.

More Sacred

But we are destined to be unique,

Different paths, different seeds.

So who’s to say your purpose

Is more sacred than mine?

For all we know,

We are crossing borderlines.

You may speak louder,

Like thunder...

Enough to make the hearers tremble.

But I offer peace,

A calm in chaos,

A rest for the warriors.

If we all shared the same fate,

Then who would ever lead?

Who would ever heal?

So who’s to say your purpose

Is more sacred than mine?

For all we know,

We are drawing different lines.

Crossing Fingers

I crossed my fingers 

Yes, for luck.

A fragile superstition

Intertwined between doubts and desires.

As if fate could be persuaded

By the quiet folding of hands.

But love is a maze,

Meant for the braves.

It sketches its boundaries in shadows,

Thin as a breath, trembling like echoes.

There are lines meant to be kept,

For the heart to stay intact.

Still we cross them,

As if we are really lucky and brave.

Softly at first, like dusk slipping into the night,

Then going deeper where every warning flickers like a dying streetlight.

In there, the dark learns our names,

And every step hums haunted and forbidden games.

Then we tell ourselves 

That luck will follow,

That it will cradle our defiance,

And it will blur the edges of consequences.

Turning things into something

Almost merciful.

But luck is a fleeting companion,

And love remembers the lines we crossed.

When our fingers finally loosen,

And our hearts start to crumble.

That's when the illusion falls apart,

And we stand in the quiet aftermath.

Crossing fingers,

Crossing lines,

The music is ruined,

The moments gone.

And we realized that we did it

For one last time.

 But inner peace is not something 

You can find...

It is something you create 

Within you.

Courage is not something 

You can find...

It is something you build

Within you.

Happiness is not something 

You can find...

It is something you make

For yourself.

Old Cafés

 And life has been a series 

Of an old playlist.

Bringing back the old 

Forgotten conversations, 

In the old Cafés

We passed along Spain.

Like an old song, 

Every word, every rhythm;

Like the old pavements,

Every brick, every granite;

Tells the story - 

Of hearts that once ache,

And now carried so many yesterdays.

Like a gallery

Holding framed arts on it's walls,

Every version, every chapter,

Has a story to tell.

Of every dream

That was once chased, got, then gone.

Like a heart keeping 

All the memories 

Of a lifetime.

Seven Kings 👑

 Sometimes, the very dream you're dreaming of is also the same dream that will destroy you.

The thing that keeps you up at night is the same one that knows how to break you. 

It glows just enough to pull you in— like a promise never intended to be kept. 

You chase it long enough, and it starts to look like destiny,

But you hold it too tight, and it begins to feel like a grave.

And walking away... there’s nothing gentle about it. 

No grand exit, no final bow...

Just a quiet unraveling in the dark, 

Where no one sees what it costs you. 

A slow, deliberate betrayal of your own longing. 

You leave it there, glowing in the distance like a dying streetlight...

Because deep down, you know if you stayed, 

It would have shattered your soul.

It’s a quiet kind of ruin you choose for yourself...

A slow, deliberate refusal. 

A graceful way of turning your back on something That was once felt like a salvation… 

But you know it would’ve doomed you in the end.

P.s. It is such a beautiful scene to have the courage to refuse or to walk away from something you've always wanted if it is not serving you right.

 ...and he said - "I hope you can find the courage to be happy and not just to be strong."

As she turns and walks away, her heart trembles like a quiet confession— she knows she have to seek that kind of courage.

End.

A Share of Ever After

 And because she believed in fairy tales,

Even after meeting a thousand of villains,

Her faith stayed soft, yet unbroken—

A kind of courage for love that even fate cannot bend.

So now she walks through the aisle 

In white dress and flowers and the sweetest smile.

Every wounded dream she chose to heal,

All because she once said - to always believe.

And all of the stories of her fairy tales,

Now she's finally having hers.

A touch of fate to her faith,

Her own share of ever after.

In the serenity of thoughts,

Art begins to breathe.

Quietly shaped by the stillness,

Created in silence.

 

The Last Letter

She sealed her goodbye

Like the closing of a quiet door.

Not slammed, not broken...

Just gently shut

On everything that is no more.

But her letter lingered in him.

It rested in his hands

Like something is still alive deep within.

A fragile echo whispering to him to wait,

Curling quietly around his days.

Her words fell softly,

Like leaves letting go off the branches.

Each line is a step away,

Each sentence is a breath

Of long awaited peace.

But He read it like a promise

That the world forgot to keep.

Trying to find the meaning in silence,

Holding onto spaces in between.

Where love once lived, 

Believing it might find its way back to him.

And so Hope became his shelter,

Built from her final words.

Not strong enough to hold her,

But enough to keep him wait.

She wrote with her hands

And her wounds are healing.

He read it with his heart

And the cut is just beginning.

She walked forward

Into a life unburdened.

Her past unfolding behind 

Like a chapter in a book

Reaching the last line.

But he remained in that same page

Of the book where she is the main character.

Gently bound to the memory of her,

And the all of the words from her last letter.

Of All the Vines We Pressed

Of all the vines we pressed,

Poured out our quiet dreams to test,

In fragile glass we dare to rest.

Bittersweet flavor slowly fades

But on my tongue still lingers the aftertaste,

Of all the wines in glasses, we raised.

 

Of All the Light that Flashes

 Of all the light that flashes,

And dances in her eyes.

Sparks that lingers,

Blurs and flickers,

All in the shadows,

Of the so called inner light.

Shine Even in the Background

 But do you ever notice, that in every great movie, there is always the promising young and talented student, and that old, wise and ever powerful great teacher who never steals the spotlight from the main character?

That's because true greatness doesn't need to be on the center...

True greatness shines even in the background.

The Art of Silent Rituals

 And so there it was...

The art of silent rituals.

That grey space between 

Faith and doubt,

That carries your thoughts 

And wander to that place 

Older than fear,

Unmoored and daunted.

So there it was...

The art of silent rituals.

The familiarity 

Of the odd things you do,

Like a prayer without a meaning.

While your mind is saying - 

If everything is just so happy,

Then it might not be the reality.

But there it was...

The art of silent rituals.

Drenched in de javus,

And the scents of fear

Over something 

Your mind created, 

But just like a ghost,

They are myths that never happened.

 But in the end,

Nostalgia will become the most beautiful pain you'll ever have.

Like books drenched in time,

The scents, the Auburn colored pages,

All dazzles in your mind.

And for a moment, 

It was there,

Then it's gone...

Again.

 And I've got beautiful stories to tell...

But most of them remain untold. 

All these beautiful stories... 

Will it make it sense,

If they aren't shared?

 Was it bravery or fearlessness

That strong people do?

Because sometimes, strong people are just too strong to even feel their emotions.

And maybe, They are just too strong that they can even block the feelings.

Sad and Sweet

 And it's sad and sweet...

But what if I wrote you a love song?
One carried gently through generations.
Like a folk song on a child’s lips,
Echoing in the memories of old men.
Whispered from one lifetime to the next,
A melody everyone will unknowingly hum,
A tune that trembles on the tongues of those who can no longer remember why it even makes them ache.

And if a thousand years should fade,
In lives reborn and lived again.
After a reincarnation or two,
When its notes find you,
In some distant place and unfamiliar time,
Where my name no longer exists,
Will your heart pause
To recognizing a love it once held?
Soft as a memory you can’t quite remember.
Will you tremble just a little and ask why it leaves a shadow in your chest?
Will you feel that it was meant for you?
Will you know that every verse was written for you?
From the remnants of a love that refused to die?

Of Poetries and Letters, Left Unsent

 Poetry is but a letter

Left unsent to whom it is addressed.

So it whispers to the wandering winds,

Hoping they will carry its words

To the very ears for whom they were meant.

Captured Arbitrarily

 

To all the women, make this statement louder. Let it cross borders and echo across communities until it helps create a world that is safer, fairer, and more respectful for all.

And to those who believe that vulgar jokes and degrading comments are marks of masculinity—know this: such behavior does not elevate you. It only reveals the poverty of respect and character behind it.

I will use every platform available to me and will continue to stand firm, tall, unwavering, and resolute, in support of women and children everywhere.

 

Just Randoms

For all things are designed but in random.