What if we never met?
What if we never had a son?
What if one night—
the moon forgot to shine?

Would I know it?
Could I sense it—
deep in my bones?

Would it linger—
below the surface
without a name?

Would the words
"I love you" lay
on barren lips
without a home?

When I’m gone,
I won’t leave—

I’ll linger
where your skin remembers heat
and the dark leans closer.

You’ll pause,
not knowing why.

You’ll soften—
the air suddenly full.

And somewhere,
in the faint glow
of the moon,

you’ll remember.

Of a Righteous Inferno 🔥

This is our Poem 🔥

Kudos to the creators of NovelCrafter—an incredible tool for drafting a novel.

The app's codex feature is such a game-changer. It’s like having a bird’s-eye view of your entire story, all at once. A godsend for novelists and authors, really.

Writing a novel is like assembling IKEA furniture without the instructions—just pure hope, stubbornness, and the growing suspicion you’ve built an existential crisis instead of a bookshelf.

Some of us are born of destiny,
and some of us are born of love.

But the lucky few—
those rarest of souls—
they are born of dreams

A poem about the secrets we carry

A Christmas poem