Follow your heart

Within it lie barriers and fervent pleas,

Strength and a prayer carried on the breeze.

I sought no madness, no trespass of the soul,

Only fragments of truth that make me whole.

Time slips away, its seconds obscure,

Masking joy and pain that endure.

Is poetry a herald or an end?

An empty vessel, or a truth to transcend?

Judge not life with a hardened gaze,

I sought to remind you of fleeting days.

Hear not the word alone, but the hidden key,

For beyond these lines lies you and me.

I love life—wildly, recklessly, and true!

Understand this: destiny waits for you.

Happiness is readiness, a path aligned,

For those who seek, and those who find.

THUS, IT MUST BE LOVE

“Morning broke gently, as if painted by a delicate hand. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the stillness, weaving a quiet intimacy that only dawn could bring. The pages of a well-loved book lay open before me, words whispering secrets of times long past. My pen hovered over the diary, caught between the present and the weight of emotions longing to be expressed”.

Thus, it must be love—a tender, fleeting flame,

A melody spun from the fabric of dreams.

Restless yet gentle, it lingers on the edge of thought,

Whispering truths where silence once held sway.

Like sunlight tracing shadows on a waking wall,

It is both fragile and eternal,

A promise unspoken, yet deeply known.

Feelings once forged in stone now yield to time’s caress,

And scattered leaves murmur stories long forgotten.

I, unaware of love’s deft hand,

Awoke to its rhythm in the quiet warmth of a morning cup—

An ache, a joy, a binding thread.

Let us inscribe it, I whispered to the dawn,

For love, like the first breath of day,

Must never fade from memory.

THE SILENT RIVER

"Each poem I write is a thread in the tapestry of my soul. These verses are not merely words; they are fragments of silence given form. I call my collection The Tear of Silence, for it is born from the quiet places within me – the moments between breath, the spaces between words. Let these pages speak where my voice cannot."

Oh, silent river, where do you flow?

Through valleys of light, through shadows below?

Do you carry the dreams of those who sleep,

Or secrets of hearts that ache and weep?

Your current winds through the forest deep,

Whispering truths I long to keep.

Oh, river of silence, take me too,

To lands unseen, where the heart is true.

INTUITION – A PROPHECY OR A POWER

“This morning, I wandered through the halls of the Hermitage. The paintings and sculptures seemed alive, whispering truths I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear. A thought clung to me: is intuition a blessing, or does it deceive us? I couldn’t let it rest…”

Is intuition a prophecy or a power,

That reason cloaks in the shadow of fear by night?

A sculptor, loud and angry,

Or a mocking, devilish, cunning spirit?

Perhaps the vision of distant horizons