Stay Good, Flotilla
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Stay good, flotilla.
I know how hard it is to remain gentle in this time,
when the beasts of history crawl out of their graves
trying to tear the cloth from your arm,
bite the spine that still stands straight.
Yet you must remain the light.

Chaos Theory
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In the heart of order, whispers arise—
Invisible currents beneath calm skies.
Like pieces on a chessboard, finely laid,
Yet a single move turns night from day.
When light grows weary, shadow holds it close,
Between their touch, a silent pulse grows.