life

Rooms Too Small for Your Sky

There are gatheringswhere your presence registerslike a dropped pin in a hurricane—there, but swallowed,a soft sound beneath louder storms. You speak,and your syllables driftlike paper boats on concrete,searching for water that isn’t there,for eyes that aren’t looking. You laugh on cue,fold your brightness into polite corners,trim your sentences to fittheir small attention spans,as if your…
The Hand Behind the Horizon

There are moments when light does not arrive—it unveils.As if the sky itself inhales,and suddenly the world I thought I knewis edged with brilliance—tree branches traced in liquid gold,ordinary walls carrying a quiet glowlike embers remembering fire.In that strange, holy illumination,I feel Your promise move toward me—not in words,but in a certainty that hums beneath…
The Kind That Holds

Real love is not the spark—it’s the slow-burned timberstacked by hand,one quiet choice at a time,until winter’s breathcan’t put it out.It’s the irony of a flamethat doesn’t boast,yet warms everything within reach. It is less like a roseand more like the soil—dark, unnoticed,and willing to cradle the rootsso something else can bloom.It’s the long patienceof…

Rooms Too Small for Your Sky