We live the moment...

And capture the memories ❤️

 

Golden Hour

The perfect shot : 

Is to surrender in time.

You sit... You wait... You watch...

For maybe an hour or two of soft patience - 

And just for a flickering moment...

A single shift in the briefest breath of time...

When the ordinary becomes divine—

Just to capture something beautiful.

 

Like Gemini

 But aren’t we all just passing ghosts on earth,

Wearing light to cloak our deeper dirt?

Laughter stitched in porcelain grace,

While silent storms stir behind the face.

We move like echoes through the air,

Threading flaws with strands of prayer.

Adorning our chaos in silken disguise,

Chasing reflections in borrowed skies.

Different hearts, the same old flame,

Whispered truths in a thousand names.

Waging wars with mirrored pain,

All for a crown of fleeting fame.

Aren’t we all shadows veiled in light,

Dancing soft beneath the moon’s white sight?

Carving sanctuaries in slivers of space,

Filling the void with sugar and grace.

Aren’t we all half-masked divine,

Drinking light like sacred wine?

Building temples in our chest,

Filling them with myth and rest.

He is Capricorn — horned and wise,

You are Pisces — born of tides.

Mine is Libra — veiled in air,

Hers an Aries — burning prayer.

And don’t we all wear mirrored skin,

Speak of virtue while sin sits within?

Preach with silver, act with rust,

Holy words, but hearts of dust.

Hypocrites - creatures cloaked in light...

Aren’t we all two-faced... Like Gemini?

The Devil is Never Alone

 The Devil is Never Alone

She smiles in white, but her bones are stone.

Her breath is ash, her crown is thorn —

She labors in shadows, birthing scorn,

And feeds us lies until we mourn.

But the Devil  is Never Alone.

She shuns the light like a cursed unknown,

Carving pits where her spawn are thrown,

Chained in dark where no seed is sown.

And the Devil  is  Never Alone.

So I cloaked my soul in cold defiance,

Whispered fire in midnight silence,

And begged the sky for holy violence.

Let the Heavens wake from it's golden sleep —

Let angels rise, and serpents weep.

Footnotes:

I'll pen my thoughts to prevent violence in times of chaos.

A Murder in Poetry

 I have rehearsed it

a thousand times —

The perfect crime,

The getaway, the alibi.

I rifled through my chest,

Each cavern, every ravine,

For traces of fingerprints

And of guilt I have to leave behind.

I mirrored my soul

As I watched my conscience practice its silhouettes,

In the dark — slow and meticulous,

A confession whispered at night.

I smile at your closed eyes,

Let your ghost dance through the door,

Lit off that lantern,

May you wander, may you get lost.

I do not want my hands stained,

I do not want rain that tastes of iron —

Yet in every epilogue of my poetries,

I have already killed you with a thousand knives.

I will lose myself in the songs

And of the prose I leave like footprints,

And if only thoughts could kill —

Oh my! Then mine would be a quiet genocide.

Make Peace

 Make peace with the battles 

You fought so hard

But did not win.

Make peace with the struggles 

You tried with your best

But did not come out clean.

Make peace with the silence 

You always tried to speak about

But never dared to open your mouth.

Make peace with your heart

For not always siding with your mind 

But learned to be kind.

Make peace with person

You always wanted to be

But did not become.

Make peace with your "what if's"

You tried so much to justify 

Until then, you will be satisfied

Trouble in the Old Town

 There's trouble in the old town

And the whistle 

Is waiting to be blown.

They killed the Mockingbird 

Only for the Mockingjay 

To be born.

They made the perfect crime

Troubles and troubles

In the heart of the old town,

They're enjoying the show

Just in time when the whistle 

Is finally blown.

P.s. 

A lot of people (I know) are so blatantly condemning corruption inside politics, shame on them! They don't look at themselves, they're busy joining the social media posting their disgust, when in fact, they are the very same people who are corrupt in their very own jobs. Shame, shame on you!

P.p.s.

Don't confuse the scheming corruption in your job as a blessing from God to sustain your needs/wants. If you think that way... Then you are mentally broke.

Of the White Dress Unworn

 But we love dark things 

From afar. 

They seem beautiful 

And Mysterious, 

Noctivagant.

But not until it gets us.

Moving in shadows,

Devouring our light.

A wraith in waiting 

With Opaline eyes.

And in the dark that veils us,

We yearn once more

To be there in the distant,

Just Watching 

With the moonlight.

But as we walk in silence,

Like a ghost in prayer,

We learn that

Freedom comes 

In different enigmatic ways.

Freedom is acceptance 

That some things 

Are just numinous dream,

We cannot dare to claim.

They are meant to be elusive.

Freedom is forgiveness 

Even without an apology.

For it is a waste of time

To wait for something 

That may never come.

Freedom is parading 

That long white dress

You did not wear,

For some shameful reasons 

You no longer care.

Freedom is wearing 

Your silver shoes 

Meant for the altar.

But now you're walking it

In the pavements of your street.

Like vellichor and withered pages,

Yellowed book from ash and age,

You yearn and learn all the same.

And slowly as your heart breaths 

You kiss your grief goodbye.