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.

 

 For now we see through a glass but blurry...