“You giver, turned miner, turned shark in my waters.”

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

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

“Please, let me do that, darling mine,
To hold you as you cry.”

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.