I write when I’m happy,
When sunlight spills across the sky,
I write when the sky’s all blue,
And when the raindrops gently touch my skin.
In light and love,
With my heart open and my hand steady,
I write.
I know my fire,
What I’ve built from the peace and the chaos.
Today with a full heart,
And with you on my mind.
I write in joy and in love,
To feel, to heal, to understand.
Sweta
Can we be old-fashioned once again,
Falling in love without a word to send?
Connected by our souls and our hearts,
Speaking through our eyes, when words are done.
Staying close, though miles may keep us apart,
Sharing one sky, one moon, one heart.
Calm waters shimmered with life,
Mt. Fuji draped in a cloak of white.
It watched in silence from afar,
Grounded firmly, and crowned with stars.
To new beginnings,
May they bring you joy.
To every ending,
May they help you grow.
Through every chapter,
May you find your peace.
In every moment,
May your heart find ease.
Sweta
There will come a time when you will rise,
A moment when tears will no longer cloud your skies.
But until then, my dearest, burn—
In agony, in fear, in pain, in despair.
Burn! Burn! Burn!
Stay silent, step away,
Avoid the paths that lead you astray.
Shield yourself if you must,
From the chaos that shatters your faith.
And quietly,
Rise! Rise! Rise!
And slowly,
Fly! Fly! Fly!
Sweta
What a life it must be—
To be normal,
To walk through days unshaken,
To know a mind untouched by chaos.
What is it like, I wonder,
To have never felt despair
Seep through the cracks of your soul,
Leaving it scorched and aching?
And yet, I would not trade,
this madness, this despair.
For in this burning,
I have found my fire.
Sweta
The clouds closed in, hiding the moon,
While stars played peek-a-boo.
The sky was a dull, dark grey,
Heavy with the weight of the day.
The moon’s faint glow formed a halo
Around the soft, puffy clouds billowed.
I hoped for rain to fall tonight,
Not just to cleanse the streets of dust,
But to wash the thoughts from my mind.
Sweta
When it pours, it pours—feelings, I mean.
A slip of the tongue brings forth sleepless nights—
more humiliation, less humbling.
The restless mind keeps on working,
repeating, rehearsing
things I should have said,
things I should say,
torturing the soul each day.
It pours and pours—feelings I long to let go.
Sleepless tonight; perhaps tomorrow will bring
more humility and less humiliation.
The trees have changed their colour again;
The brightness of green has turned to dull orange.
Some have adorned a soft pink glow,
While others have become a vivid yellow.
Sneakily, autumn has made its way,
And the sun feels less warm today.
This change has brought beauty quietly,
As nature lets go of summer,
Embracing new beginnings.
I know the faces
And remember certain places,
Some stories that were told,
And treasures that were found.
I recall words spoken—sometimes—
The emotions that were felt,
The paths I walked,
The road I travelled.
I remember voices and sounds,
The smells and the touch.
The times I was lost,
And the times I was found,
The times I was broken,
And the times I was mended.
Sweta
Stumbled Thoughts 