Prose
BLOOD MOON RISING
September 7, 2025, marks a total lunar eclipse, also known as the Blood Moon, occurring in Pisces. This is not just any eclipse, it is a cosmic culmination, a spiritual turning point, and a moment of deep emotional release. Astrologers are calling it a time of karmic closure, hidden truths surfacing, and collective recalibration.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 5 months ago in Poets
Between the Lines of Rain —
Rain has always carried a language of its own. For some, it is music, a lullaby for weary souls. For others, it is grief, the sky weeping when words are too heavy to speak. For me, rain has always been a mirror—reflecting not only the world outside but also the storms within.
By Nadeem Shah 5 months ago in Poets
The Language of Falling Leaves
Introduction: When the Trees Begin to Speak Every autumn, when the air turns crisp and the trees begin to shed their leaves, the world transforms into a living poem. Golden, crimson, and amber leaves dance through the air before resting gently on the ground. To many, it’s just a seasonal shift. But if you listen closely, you’ll hear something deeper — the language of falling leaves.
By Nadeem Shah 5 months ago in Poets
Echoes of a Silent Heart
Introduction: The Sound of What We Never Say Silence has its own language. It lingers in the spaces between words, in the pauses where our hearts ache but our voices fail. A silent heart does not mean an empty one—it means a heart that carries longing so heavy it cannot always be spoken aloud.
By Nadeem Shah 5 months ago in Poets
I Forgive You or It’s Hard to Love You
…because you are selfish. You think like the wind, fast and with moments of youth, but like the wind, I cannot grasp your thoughts. I try, I want to, but they slip through open fingers just as fluidly as through clenched. I had one of them once, grabbed it like a thin ribbon untethered from the beauty it once held. But you can’t keep someone else's thoughts. They have places to be, after all. My mind exists because of you. I am here because of you. You gave me much, took little, but prevented more. More thoughts I could have tried to hold. More past so I could have built a ladder to escape pain. But not all pain, mind you. I need some pain. Pain teaches and scars remember. And you did that too. You shaped all the sides of me and carved the first scar. That scar became a road. It was deep and forever, but it no longer hurts. It tells me where to go by showing me where I’ve been. Thank you for my scars.
By Matthew Agnew5 months ago in Poets
