Entries
The Echo Left Behind
In the quiet shadows where memories dwell,
Lies the echo of a story too tender to tell.
A heart once full, now hollow and bare,
Yearns for the touch that is no longer there.
The sun sets softly, yet the night is long,
Each star a reminder of where you belong.
In dreams, you visit, a whisper, a sigh,
But morning steals you, and leaves me to cry.
What ifs linger like ghosts in the night,
Questions unanswered, out of sight.
Does it get better? They say it might,
Yet the wound remains, despite the light.
Time, the healer, moves at its pace,
But the heartache lingers, a familiar face.
In laughter, in silence, in moments of grace,
Your absence is present, a haunting embrace.
What do I do with this pain I bear?
I carry it gently, with love and care.
For in this sorrow, a bond remains,
A testament to love that forever sustains.
So I walk this path with memories in tow,
Learning to live, learning to grow.
In the tapestry of life, your thread is spun,
A part of my heart, forever as one.
In the quiet shadows where memories dwell,
Lies the echo of a story too tender to tell.
A heart once full, now hollow and bare,
Yearns for the touch that is no longer there.
The sun sets softly, yet the night is long,
Each star a reminder of where you belong.
In dreams, you visit, a whisper, a sigh,
But morning steals you, and leaves me to cry.
What ifs linger like ghosts in the night,
Questions unanswered, out of sight.
Does it get better? They say it might,
Yet the wound remains, despite the light.
Time, the healer, moves at its pace,
But the heartache lingers, a familiar face.
In laughter, in silence, in moments of grace,
Your absence is present, a haunting embrace.
What do I do with this pain I bear?
I carry it gently, with love and care.
For in this sorrow, a bond remains,
A testament to love that forever sustains.
So I walk this path with memories in tow,
Learning to live, learning to grow.
In the tapestry of life, your thread is spun,
A part of my heart, forever as one.
Kintsugi of the Soul
In the quiet of a potter’s room,
Where broken shards lie in gloom,
A master works with hands so wise,
To mend what once met its demise.
Kintsugi, the art of golden seams,
Where broken pieces find new dreams,
Lacquer mixed with powdered gold,
Mends the cracks, makes stories told.
A vessel once shattered, now made whole,
The fractures filled with lines of gold.
The scars are not hidden, but shown with pride,
A testament to what has been survived.
So too the soul that’s been through pain,
Bears the marks of loss and strain.
Trauma breaks us, makes us fall,
Yet within us lies the strength to recall.
The cracks and breaks are part of us,
A history written in lines of trust.
To heal is not to make it disappear,
But to fill the gaps with what makes us dear.
Golden lines where once were wounds,
A symbol of the strength that looms.
The beauty lies not in what was whole,
But in the mending of a broken soul.
We are all like kintsugi, in a way,
With golden scars that never fade away.
The broken parts are part of our story,
A testament to our journey and glory.
Healing is a journey, a work of art,
Where broken hearts can make a new start.
With every crack is filled with love and light,
We become more beautiful in the night.
So let us embrace our golden seams,
The mended parts where once were dreams.
For in the art of kintsugi, we find,
The beauty of a soul that’s been refined.
In the quiet of a potter’s room,
Where broken shards lie in gloom,
A master works with hands so wise,
To mend what once met its demise.
Kintsugi, the art of golden seams,
Where broken pieces find new dreams,
Lacquer mixed with powdered gold,
Mends the cracks, makes stories told.
A vessel once shattered, now made whole,
The fractures filled with lines of gold.
The scars are not hidden, but shown with pride,
A testament to what has been survived.
So too the soul that’s been through pain,
Bears the marks of loss and strain.
Trauma breaks us, makes us fall,
Yet within us lies the strength to recall.
The cracks and breaks are part of us,
A history written in lines of trust.
To heal is not to make it disappear,
But to fill the gaps with what makes us dear.
Golden lines where once were wounds,
A symbol of the strength that looms.
The beauty lies not in what was whole,
But in the mending of a broken soul.
We are all like kintsugi, in a way,
With golden scars that never fade away.
The broken parts are part of our story,
A testament to our journey and glory.
Healing is a journey, a work of art,
Where broken hearts can make a new start.
With every crack is filled with love and light,
We become more beautiful in the night.
So let us embrace our golden seams,
The mended parts where once were dreams.
For in the art of kintsugi, we find,
The beauty of a soul that’s been refined.