Poetry
If you can find warmth in the longest night, seeing light not as certainty but as motion, a shifting glow against the vast unknown. If you can hold the weight of silence without naming it fear, letting the absence become a form of presence, an invitation to breathe. If you
Poetry
The Cyclops, one eye fixed on the world, sees only what lies before it. Depth dissolves into certainty, a singular truth, unbroken but incomplete. Complexity shimmers beyond its gaze, an intricate weave of ripples and roots, where nothing stands alone, where every part speaks to another. Hierarchies cling to their
Poetry
We carry the yet-to-come in the marrow of our being, woven deep, unseen, a pulse older than time. The world is not a machine. It breathes, it bends, it breaks. We thought we could tame it, chart its paths, name its stars. But the stars are wild, their light a