Full of Soul

In a world that craved my sight, they wished for me to be sightless. They yearned for the allure of my eyes yet desired them to be blind to the truths that lay bare before them. They sought the beauty of my gaze, but not the vision that came with it. They admired the fullness of my lips but recoiled at the weight of the words they formed. They longed for the softness of my speech yet shunned the hard truths that slipped from my tongue. They wanted the whispers of sweet nothings, but not the roar of political discourse. … Continue reading Full of Soul

Like The Tide

In the mess of my thoughts, I stumbled upon an open book, its pages as blank as the canvas of a yet-to-be-painted masterpiece. Within its untouched expanse, I saw the perfect silhouette of an airplane, a phantom etched in the parchment, a surreal dream cradled within the confines of reality. The clouds, those ethereal guardians of the sky, heaved with the weight of unshed rain, parting reluctantly to reveal a place, a center, a wish. It was a sanctuary, a haven where I gathered the musky scents of forgotten memories and remnants of clothes strewn across the floor. In the … Continue reading Like The Tide

The Birth of Art in Adversity

Art, my dear, is not a privilege bestowed upon the fortunate, nurtured in the cradle of affluence, nor is it the offspring of tender mothers and doting fathers. It is the phoenix that rises from the ashes of hardship, birthed in the narrow lanes of ghettos, in the heart of favelas, amidst the stark nakedness of poverty. Art does not discriminate. It does not segregate based on the color of one’s skin, the race they belong to, or the creed they adhere to. It is a generous spirit, a universal language that speaks to all, transcending man-made boundaries and biases. … Continue reading The Birth of Art in Adversity

The Odyssey of Becoming

Lovable, a foreign concept until now, whispered through the winds of change. It danced around me, an elusive waltz, until I dared to embrace its rhythm. I dared you to count the limitless ways I died and was born again. Each death a closing chapter, each rebirth a blank page filled with the ink of possibility. I threw tantrums, the universe my witness, as I shattered the cocoon of my former self. I gnawed and scratched my way out of myself to grow, to adapt to my potential. My cries were not of despair but of determination, echoing across the … Continue reading The Odyssey of Becoming

Clandestine Prose

In a world where retribution rules, an eye for an eye, a bullet for a bullet, a tooth for a tooth, the cycle of vengeance spins without end. Clandestine smugglers recite verses of deceit, not the sweet nothings of lovers. Their words burst through the silence of the night, restless echoes in the cold, dark streets. These are the souls disenchanted with any semblance of innocence, their lives a stark contrast to the purity they once knew. They wander between the cars, begging at the closed signals of society’s indifference, their eyes pierced with the sharpness of reality, like the … Continue reading Clandestine Prose

A New Beginning

In the quiet solitude of dawn, I often find myself adrift in contemplation. The day, like a blank canvas, stretches out before me, its vast potential yet to be discovered. My weary bones, relics of a past steeped in trials and tribulations, yearn for the soothing balm of hope. I wonder, will this be the day when I finally shed the shackles of my past and embrace the promise of a new beginning? Each morning, as my eyes flutter open, I am greeted by a world teeming with possibilities. Will the sun, in all its radiant glory, pierce through the … Continue reading A New Beginning

My Childhood

In the cradle of scarcity, where luxury was but a distant dream, I first opened my eyes. The world around me was a tapestry of humble beginnings, woven with the threads of hardship and the unyielding spirit of survival. Yet, in this place where affluence was scarce, I found an abundance of something far more precious—dignity. I grew up in the alleys of want, where every day was a testament to endurance. The walls of my home, though frail and weathered, stood firm like the resolve in my heart. I was taught early that the measure of a person is … Continue reading My Childhood

The Weaver’s Song

On the first day of May, when the sun stretches its golden fingers across the dew-kissed fields, the working class rises. They emerge from the shadows of factories, their hands calloused and their hearts aflame with purpose. For they are the weavers of destiny, the architects of progress, and the silent poets of labor. In the foundries, molten metal dances to their rhythm. Sparks leap from anvils, forging the sinews of a nation. The sweat on their brows is not mere saltwater; it is the elixir of creation. They weave threads of industry into the fabric of existence, stitching together … Continue reading The Weaver’s Song

The Art of Resilience

In the grand theater of life, we are all performers, each playing our own part. Yet, there are those who lurk in the shadows, waiting for a moment of weakness, a slip, a fall. They are the naysayers, the doubters, the ones who revel in the struggles of others. But remember, you are the master of your own narrative. Even when the world weighs heavy on your shoulders, when the struggles seem insurmountable, you must wear a mask of positivity. Not for the sake of deceiving others, but to protect your own spirit from the corrosive whispers of negativity. You … Continue reading The Art of Resilience

Becoming: The Precious Art of Breathing

Becoming is the art of transformation, a journey not measured by the weary tread of time’s relentless march. It is not a life molded by the artificial, where emotions are stifled, tangled, and discarded like refuse. Becoming is our true inheritance, each breath a conscious choice, eyes alight with the promise of dawn. It is the fragrance of kisses, tender and enduring, that linger through the twilight hours, defying the dark—a testament to love’s tenacity. These are the sips of time we cherish, each one a delicate draught savored in the quietude before daybreak. In our hands, joy is not … Continue reading Becoming: The Precious Art of Breathing