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Midnight confessions

At midnight hearts begin to speak, The strong grow fragile, lost, and weak. The silence opens every door, To hidden truths we can’t ignore. Midnight confessions softly fall, Like shadows dancing on the wall. The words we hide through all the day, Find moonlit courage on their way. “I miss you” sounds much more sincere, When only stars are left to hear. And broken souls stop wearing masks, Beneath the night that never asks. Perhaps the dark was always kind, A place where truth could breathe and shine. For hearts speak loudest after scars, In whispered talks beneath the stars.
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Notes of the Sun

Notes of the Sun

The sun writes songs across the sky,
not with words, but golden sighs—
a whisper through the waking trees,
a kiss upon the morning seas.

Each note it plays, a thread of fire,
woven through the dawn’s soft choir.
A shimmer spilled on blades of grass,
a warm refrain as shadows pass.

It hums in beams on weathered stone,
in quiet fields the light has grown.
Its music dances on your skin—
a lullaby that sings within.

The clouds may try to dim its tune,
or chase it from the afternoon,
but still it plays behind the veil,
in silent chords that never fail.

And when it sinks beyond the west,
its final verse is peace and rest.
For even in the dark, it's true:
the notes of the sun remain in you.


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