nature

The Grace of Being Nobody

There was a time I believed I was what I did.
A title on a door, a name on a card, a face in a crowd that someone might remember. I believed identity gave me direction — that it made me visible, even valuable. Every new role felt like a new skin, warm for a while, then suffocating as it tightened with expectations.

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Valley of Flowers

Through mist-kissed hills where rivers sing,
A valley blooms in endless spring.
Petals weave a vibrant way,
A path of hues in bright array.

Gold and crimson, lilac light,
Softly swaying, pure and bright.
As if the earth in love prepares,
A welcome born of whispered prayers.

Step forth, O traveler, take your place,
In nature’s arms, in her embrace.
For every flower bends and sways,
To greet you with its fragrant praise.
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Rejuvenation

Beneath winter’s silent veil,  
The trees stand tall, their whispers frail.  
No leaves to dance, no fruits to share,  
Yet in their stillness, work is there.

In frosty depths, they store the light,  
For summer’s blaze, their hidden might.  
What’s spent, we see with open eyes,  
But how it’s saved escapes our skies.

In every root and branch unseen,  
They weave the strength for seasons green.  
So, do not think they rest in cold,  
For winter’s grip, their secrets hold.

Find your cycle, seize your grip,  
Follow the trail, let your spirit dip.  
You will shed the weight of old,  
And find the path where dreams unfold.
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