Happy birthday- its what they'll say
With voices which typed words delay
Where on your behalf today, they'll wish
Simply for your happiness

A wish to me, is like the Horizon
An imaginary line of undefined potential,
Forever fading when approached.
With its endless opportunity preceding the powerless thrill of pursuit-
Forever fading,
we approach.

When Happiness is fleeting
as all emotions are,
The golden light of  this April's dawn-
Not silhouetted, scars.

How queer the sparrow looks,
Flapping through the air.
A flash of brown, a muted sound,
Near, far off, and there.

Quick they hide among the leaves,
They neither jump nor twitch.
Behind the threads a spider weaves,
They utter no cry or pitch.

And so our little sparrow sits
There on a crooked tree.
Among the colours where it fits
And where we cannot see.

He never left a single note.
Just rings on wood, the scent of smoke.
A door unlocked a room left bare.
A ghost still sunken in the chair.

The bottle stood, its duty done.
A quiet war that no one won.
No cries for help, no last refrain.
Just heavy air and dried-up pain.

The world still turned the clocks still kept,
No one knew how hard he wept.
And when they asked they swore he laughed
Yet all he left was hollowed glass.

I accomplished what I want.
I overcome the voices in my head.
And the one who’s supposed to be proud is the one who holds me back.

One mountain climbed.  
One voice that made a change.
But that courage and voice couldn’t cause someone else pain.

Told that I can’t handle it, but what does she know. I do her job and my own.

To this day I still haven’t spoke, but maybe once I’m eighteen.

Venus, O Venus!
you do not shine—no,
you burn, awake and knowing,
a luminous wound in the sky’s
quiet body, a beacon for all
who lift their eyes,
aching for direction.

but today, you have slipped
behind the curtain of the world,
a veiled ember in the great turning,
lost to our sight—
but not gone.

this morning, I too am unseen,
folded into myself,
caught in the invisible workings
of some celestial geometry
that cages and releases,
cages and releases.

there is a breath at my back,
an absence pressing in,
a presence without a face—
like hands just beyond the veil,
like voices speaking without words,
like the quiet dread of being watched
by something I cannot name.

and so, I ask, trembling—
what am I to do with this?
how do I stand beneath this weight
without crumbling?

and from the silence, an answer,
a whisper that is not sound
but understanding—

flower and fall.

this is the way of all things.
this fear, this pressure,
this restless hum beneath the skin—
it is not death, but motion.
it is not decay, but renewal.

do you not see?
what once clung to you,
what once devoured you,
is now peeling away,
a husk lifting in the wind.

let it go. let it fall.
let the unseen hands carry it
as ants carry petals to their hidden cities,
as birds take seeds to waiting earth.
what seems an end
is only another sowing.

Venus is not gone.
she only moves beyond your sight,
whispering in the quiet—

grow.