Poetry
The Illusion of Death
In the manner of Emerson
O Death, thou shadow with a borrowed name,
Thou passest by, yet leavest all the same.
No scythe can cleave the spirit’s flame,
Nor silence hush the soul’s acclaim.
What art thou but a veil between
The Seen and the Unseen?
A hush, a breath, a subtle sigh
Before the soul is drawn on high.
For Life is not confined to clay,
Nor bound by Time’s decaying sway;
It moves with Thought, it soars with Light,
It dwells beyond the day and night.
Space—thou dream of finite eyes,
A fiction under boundless skies!
The soul, unshackled, walks with stars,
It needs no path, no gates, no bars.
Behold! The pine, the brook, the sky,
All whisper truths that never die:
That we, like leaves, from branches fall,
Yet rise anew, and hear the Call.
The soul, divine, cannot decay;
It is the sun behind the grey.
And Death? A servant, not a king—
He opens doors for us to spring.
So grieve not, Friend, nor hold to fear,
The end is not what it appears.
’Tis but the lifting of the mist,
A kiss from God, a truth long missed.
We are the wave, yet also sea,
A drop that holds eternity.
And when this mortal play concludes,
We join the choir of multitudes—
The voices vast, the light sublime,
Where soul and cosmos intertwine.
Not perished, no, but more alive—
To soar, to love, to grow, to thrive.
The Meaning of Life
a meditation
We are born beneath different suns,
shaped by languages, rituals, and rain,
yet the breath that animates us
rises from the same invisible sea.
We arrive as pilgrims,
bearing the ache of longing,
the shimmer of dreams yet named,
the fragile thread of love that binds
even as it breaks.
We laugh under stars
that have seen our ancestors weep.
We suffer losses that carve hollows
deep enough for compassion to grow.
We stumble forward,
driven not by answers,
but by the hunger to become.
Each life is a question
that no other can answer.
Each path, a poem
written in footprints and fire.
Perhaps meaning is not found,
but made—
in the way we hold another’s hand
through despair,
in the way we dare to sing
though the night is long.
Let us live,
not merely survive.
Let us love with courage,
act with kindness,
and speak with the voice
we were given.
For life—
fleeting, fierce, and luminous—
is not a problem to solve,
but a gift to shape
with reverence.
Let us leave the world
a little gentler,
a little more awake
than we found it.
