Poetry

Nerve

Nerve— that quiet wire of daring, a filament of courage stretched between fear and faith, humming beneath the skin, sparking when the heart takes flight, steady as a drum‑roll in the chest of a midnight runner, sharp as

Decry

We hear the chorus rise, a mournful chant, Against the tides that turn and sway, Each voice a plea to decry what’s unjust, To name the wrongs that dare to stay. From

Grain

In the quiet hush of dawn, the fields awake, A sea of amber whispering soft and low, Each stalk a promise, each ear a partake Of earth’s patient bounty, gently in a row.

Sauna

In the hush of timber‑clad walls, heat rises like a quiet hymn, steam curling through the pine‑scented air, a soft veil that wraps the skin. Bench‑worn bodies sit in patient stillness, muscles unwind,

Flash

Flash In an instant the heavens split, A cerulean flare that cleaves the dark, Streetlamps shudder, their amber sparks Dance to the rhythm of a sudden lit. A crowd erupts, a flash of

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