“You giver, you taker.”

“From the abyss to earth, from ocean to cloth”

“People come,
people go—
where angels fear to tread”

“No apple red shall lose its hue;
 My every fiber built to hold you.”

What’s the price of fame?

“morning comes with no light”

A contemplative manifesto of chasing a sort of zest for life— it reads like someone drifting into reflection and then suddenly planting their feet down, saying “I’m not done.”

Here, politics is the quiet but rebellious art of living — quaint, yet daring.

Love takes root in soil and sails across oceans — growing, sinking, and finding its way back to the sun.