Category: Connection & Healing

My past remains behind me; it holds no final claim,

I chart the open water, the master of my fate.

Yet kindness is the compass that guides my quiet heart—

I have no room for venom, no need or use to hate.

I write the living chapter with steady hand and pen,

Though other ships will cross me and winds may try their will;

I do not drift in silence, a passive passenger,

Nor let a passing shadow command the course I fill.

With loving care I anchor, with stoic mind I steer,

Unbowed by heavy weather, unmoved by what was said.

No struggle in this journey shall ever keep me down;

I will be quiet when I’m dead.

A sonnet on the joys of being “analog.”

We lay the glowing glass upon the pine,

And turn the fevered pulse of circuits low,

To leave the frantic stream of the design,

And let the simple room begin to glow.

Across the wooden board no borders stand;

The light falls warm upon an open face.

No hurried prompt commands a shifting hand,

Nor measures out our minutes in this space.

Yet when the constant hum at last is still,

The quiet breath reveals an ancient ground,

Where eyes can meet and listen at their will,

And words return to their authentic sound.

We drop the hurried armor from our chest:

To sit, unmasked, and simply be at rest.