A little note on this piece.

There are plenty of people who believe night owls like me need to “fix” our sleep habits, as if those quiet, dark hours don’t count, or as if we’re missing out by "choosing" night over day. But I wonder, what if nighttime is actually when we’re closest to our true selves? What if there’s something uniquely powerful about the stillness, something that’s hard to see in the bright light of day?

Guess who's mind didn’t want to shut up? Here’s a little stream of thoughts I couldn’t shake off

To live upon this world, one needs to embrace both the lightness and the dark,the serenity and the storm, and the chaos in the calm,each a vital part to the other’s earthsong.

Drifting through these borrowed hours, I'm lost to this waking dream,A phantasm, searching for solace, A soul bound to life's stream.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm merely a place where people come, recharge, and then move on. Leaving me standing on the shore, watching them sail away. My poem, Longing Adrift, came from that feeling, where connection feels fleeting, and I’m left wondering if anyone will ever stay long enough to really see me.

We have all heard the phrase “Show, don’t tell.” I am here to tell you, don’t listen to those people. We, as writers and as readers, need both, yes BOTH, for the story to flow naturally.

I crave those late-night talks, 

In your eyes, galaxies gleam,