Each key waits,
not for permission,
but for truth.
Letters arrive
like footsteps in a quiet room,
uneven,
but certain.
The ribbon stains the page
......
“Too soon old
and too late smart"
Now, wisdom comes
to impart
the truth of things
the right from wrong
What one's gut
knew all along
What is a king?
Oh a foolish thing,
So pathetic and tired,
A crown of gold,
A mighty roar,
All to jump through a hoop made of fire.
Oh,
But what is a king?
Oh a terrible thing,
......
It was something about the waves
Rising strong and tall
Breaking soft and small
A sense of calm my body craves
It was something about the reflection
A distorted being holding me captive
A version of me that speaks in cursive
It’s easy to forget the mirror too is broken
......
You look,
and I feel seen.
No words,
yet everything shifts.
When you come closer,
I remember myself.
We say nothing,
......
There is a river I return to
not because it waits for me,
but because it does not.
It moves with a certainty
I have never possessed—
not hurried, not delayed,
only committed to its direction
without the burden of explanation.
......
Ik zie je staan aan de rand van wat nog moet komen,
met ogen vol vragen en stille twijfel,
je handen gevouwen om dromen
die groter zijn dan je durft te zeggen.
Ik wil je vertellen dat je zult vallen,
maar dat de grond je niet zal breken,
dat elke scheur in je vertrouwen
ruimte maakt voor licht dan binnenvalt.
......
I was lost, lost in the papers,
Laptop, pen, assignments, and staples.
Wake up, work, eat and sleep—
Round-n-round-n-round-n-round.
I know—I know, how boring I sound.
Then I met, a little girl,
Bright as sunshine, as precious as a pearl.
Pens for stories, brushes for art,
......
Each key waits,
not for permission,
but for truth.
Letters arrive
like footsteps in a quiet room,
uneven,
but certain.
The ribbon stains the page
......
“Too soon old
and too late smart"
Now, wisdom comes
to impart
the truth of things
the right from wrong
What one's gut
knew all along