Star for the Journey

writing

  • 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…

  • Where Quiet Shapes the Soul

    In the quiet hours,when the world loosens its gripand the rush of things drains awaylike a river slipping back into its banks,my soul begins to breathe again.There, in that soft margin between weariness and wonder,I sense Your nearness settling over me—not loud, not flashing,but steady as sunrise climbing the edge of the horizon,coloring everything it…

  • 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…

  • Under the Carpenter’s Measure

    Peace does not arrive with fanfare.It comes as a thin thread in the hand—easily broken, easily ignored—yet strong enough to pull a lifeback from the edges. I have learned this:the heart fractures long before the voice does.A quiet judgment here,a hurried assumption there,the beam settling into the eyeone splinter at a timeuntil I cannot seeeven…