In the flux of being, we discover how to be
Soft as a murmur, yet strong as the sea.
In the harmony woven by trials and grace,
Here lies the nature of life’s sacred space.
Softer
In whispers of cold mornings, where the shadows play,
Ye heart beats gently – in a soft, tender way.
From petals of my roses blooming nine days old,
A kiss from the breeze; a gentle, fleeting hold.
We hold each other close, as dew upon the grass,
We wish to stay within this warmth of us forever last
Yet in this world of sweet, fragile dreams,
Lurks the fear that reality frays at the seams.
Harder
I didn't know what lies beneath that thin skin: a storm can brew,
A body of armor–with eyes level, careful and cold as a bruise.
Defenses are drawn like the sharpest of swords,
To shield the soft heart from the world’s harshest hoards.
We stand tall, resolute, with a hard drive might,
Worn down by the war that rages most out of sight.
Inside, we wrestle with shame, with regret,
Building walls brick by brick, our tears to forget.
In-Between
Yet between chaos and order, a balance is revealed;
Where softness and strength hold secrets concealed.
The tenderest moments when laughter can bloom,
Where courage is found in a confined room.
It’s every breath we take between joy and despair,
The pause in the chaos: The Silent Prayer.
In this age of becoming, we mold and we blend,
Neither solely one thing nor wholly the end.
