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Twin Flame: A Poem | Thursday Verse No. 29

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The hues of distant waters and fading skies have always seemed to belong to the unreachable. Yet every so often, the distance between them and us narrows to the span of a single gaze. Twin Flame is a poem about the rare moment when something vast and seemingly unreachable feels intimately near.

The Water Lily - Part II: A Story of Loss and Liberation | Thursday Tale No. 29

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The stories people tell can shape a life. The stories people stop telling can shape it just as profoundly.    The Water Lily - Part II continues to unfolds in the silence between the two.

You are the Moon: A Poem on Ethereal Love | Thursday Verse No. 28

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  Love takes many forms, lingers in many places, and does not always belong where we wish it would. And yet, in letting it move as it must, we find our way back to ourselves. We spend so much time reaching outward, only to realize that love, in all its forms, quietly leads us inward.

The Water Lily - Part I: A Story of Loss and Liberation | Thursday Tale No. 28

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  Colours do not know they are auspicious. Flowers do not know they are sacred. Such distinctions belong not to nature, but to the stories people tell about it. And stories, unlike the things they adorn, are forever changing.    The Water Lily - Part I  is one such story of a meaning transformed by the passage of time.

A Falling Petal: A Poem on Distortion | Thursday Verse No. 27

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  There are moments when the world feels slightly unsteady, as if something just beyond sight is pressing and pulling at its edges.    A Falling Petal is an ekphrastic engagement with Edvard Munch’s The Scream, resting in that suspended tension between calm and rupture.

The Fall: A Story on Persistence of Memory | Thursday Tale No. 27

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 The world is full of small acts of disappearance. Leaves loosen from branches, voices fade from rooms, familiar places change beyond recognition. Yet loss rarely arrives empty-handed; often, it leaves behind a different way of seeing.

Oh My Darling: A Poem on Obsession | Thursday Verse No. 26

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 Cities keep secrets well. They bury them beneath traffic, crowds, and the glow of ordinary afternoons. Sometimes, however, a secret slips through a crack—a passing glimpse, a raised voice, a name spoken at the wrong moment—and the world never quite looks the same again.