The Firebird Still Burns
Life rarely follows a straight path. But the fire in you doesn’t go out just because the road turns dark.
Life rarely follows a straight path. But the fire in you doesn’t go out just because the road turns dark.
My father’s words echoed for years before I understood what he meant and what it actually costs to become your own boss.
Sometimes all it takes is a glance upward. The city disappears, replaced by something much older and quieter.
Even the strongest bonds can dissolve quietly. Not with a fight, but with a slow fade neither person planned.
Time is both a measure and a mystery. This poem sits inside the kind of moment you wish you could hold still.
Not every cage is made of iron. Some are built from habit, fear, and the slow weight of other people’s expectations.
What would you say if you could write fear a letter, and finally stop letting it write your story instead?
We spend years thinking the walls are closing in, only to discover we could have walked out at any moment.