years settle like ink
soft on an opened page
lines deepen with truth~
turning pages without fear
So much pressure
To fill an unknown mission
Too many ingredients
And cooks in my kitchen
There's no way out
Of this tangled mess
I need help
Not ashamed to confess
I perceive a light
I will follow, just to see
Maybe it knows the way
And it will be revealed to me
Barely getting out
Of tight binds of fear
In great sorrow and grief
I find the light draw near
Feeling loss of perfect plan
When others can't perceive
Heart close to hurt
Prevents the possibility to receive
I see now, in every failure
The capacity to deepen and grow
The mission is never lost
Because the nervous system can't hold
...His glory
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-30-2026
I do not break the silence of this room,
nor ask the dark to yield what it has kept;
there is a fullness growing in the gloom
like roots that deepen while the earth has slept.
What is not said begins to softly burn,
a hidden fire without a visible flame;
the more I leave the unseen to return,
the more it gathers, nameless, yet the same.
I could have filled this space with borrowed light,
with words that close the wound they cannot know,
but I have learned the dignity of night
that lets the deeper, secret meanings grow.
And so I stand where nothing seems to be
and guard the dark that overflows in me.
Hungry hands toss scraps into the cauldron pot.
Odds and ends, all the got-to-go gleanings from the fridge.
Diced limp carrots, wilted herbs, chicken scraps awaken over low heat.
Garlic, bruised and crushed, enlivens the brew with its perfume.
Every stray morsel joins the bubbling parliament, murmuring.
Pots remember the whys and wherefores, empty cupboards forget.
Onions soften slowly, weaving flavors, creating harmony.
Drops of dark soy deepen the mood, seasoning with salt and umami.
Garni bouquet unfurls its quiet counsel of sense and purpose.
Each spoonful proves the slow, patient grace, of making do.
Oh my love, let me praise your face—
bright as the moon rising over still skies,
and the depth of your eyes, dark as evening pools,
where I long to sink and taste love’s nectar
as a bee sips from a single blossom.
My love, let me praise your soul.
One day your face will wrinkle and fade,
like brown leaves paling in the first frost;
yet your soul will deepen in love, like a tree
that stands through wild winter after falling last leaf.
The hum of the furnace
The buzz of silence
The smell of old
The feel of defiance.
The loneliness aches
The chair rocks
The TV stares
The night docks.
The time ticks
The memories fade
The wrinkles deepen
The age decays.
The sun rises
The sun sets
The day ends
The dark threats.
The eyes close
The heart stops
The family cries
The end drops.
Walking an endless path, faithfully.
Crossing no familiar silhouettes,
glancing at no warm faces.
Still travelling, still in silence.
Glimpsing, registering each moment.
Most timeless as dream paralysis.
Others, memorable almost enjoyable,
Startling, as the first skipped beat,
of a heart touched by love.
Watching, and remembering each moment,
so I have more fuel to light up inside my chest.
Only to be gone, as light swallowed by
dark after a bloody red sunset.
Some still try to reach my tired eyes,
some curse me, as if I'm darkness itself.
I embrace it.
Those scars deepen my perception,
stronger, broken, just enough
to navigate through chaos.
I may appear, shining as the purest tin.
But don't be fooled, a single touch,
is enough to reframe my shape...
Only, to deceive me, or them.
I never know.
What I know is that I'm still human,
yet, some days I don’t use it.
I'm just a mad one, who knows the rules,
only to not follow them.
Tympani, thy tyranny.
Prisoner of the noise:
Soulless is this symphony!
Deepen, O my ploys!
Tangled in an oak tree s roots?
Tide rushing in fast?
Succor, sailors? Little boots!
Life preserver, cast!
Where do pining poems go?
Carrion, feed thy crow.
All lost souls to heaven go?
Hell, thy rows to hoe.
Blessed are the blasphemers?
Not entirely, sir.
How the hungry tiger purrs!
Vision, now to blur!
Old diner, thy jukebox.
Play simple tunes for folk.
O Elysian fields, thy phlox.
Dinosaur egg, yolk.
But, in times of warning?
The panic bell is best.
Sweaters wool, thy darning.
Pirate treasure, thy chest.
Sorted out? Without a doubt.
World unfriendly, be.
Cursed demons, give a shout.
Sunken in the sea.
Hope, be with the poet!
Grant shelter to the bard!
Otherwise, you know it!
Fry deeply, O my lard...
I write better than I speak
And yet my words are still weak.
I write to be free, to feel seen,
but in the end I feel so stupid for
thinking my words could strike your heart
like cupid. My anger is only fueled when
I'm ridiculed for trying to express myself,
to someone else. I wonder why, explaining my
emotions feels like I'm crossing dangerous
oceans, but all I could do is sit and cry.
You tell me to get out of my head, but I
can't even get out of bed. I lie here, tossing
and turning, waiting for my eyes to stop
burning. The tears in my eyes stream down
my face, as I pray for your warm embrace.
My fears, will only deepen the
wounds in my fatigued heart,
the ones I've had from the start. To be unheard
is absurd when I'm surrounded by people
who love eachother, but they're
not you. And yet I still write, hoping my sad
words will some day meet your sight.
significant
moments
atmosphere
a
softness
of
vision
outlines
occluded
yet
inherent
&uneasy
confined
dormant
a
spontaneous
overflow
enlarging
openings
glimpsed
realities
of
apparitions
deepen
Quote:“You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today,”-Abraham Lincoln
Another quote from ancient Indian saint Kabirdas:
"What you plan for tomorrow, begin today,
And what’s yours for today, don’t delay.
In just a heartbeat, the world could end —
If not now, when will you begin again?"
You cannot hide
from the weight of what waits—
tomorrow carries its ledger
long before its dawn.
Each choice left undone
is a promise unpaid;
every evaded task
grows its roots in waiting shadows.
To delay is not relief
but silent invitation
for tomorrow’s burden to deepen,
for its cost to compound.
So pick up your courage
in the fragile light of today,
and act — not for praise,
but for peace.
For only when we meet
our duties in the present
can we lay claim to a gentler future,
free of borrowed burden.
You’re a kindness – amid the cruelty
A hope when all hope has gone
You’re compassion – where it feels so harsh
A gentle when life has been rough
You’re a light – in the blackest dark
A reflection of God’s grace in the heart
You’re a miracle – when the shadows deepen
A healing when the heart seems to break
You’re a angel – sent by the Holy Spirit
A song who resonates peace and love
You’re a messenger – from the heart of a Savior
One who offers His inspiration from above
You’re an anchor – when the storm overtakes me
A security in life’s most agonizing trials
I’m thankful for a friend sent by Him
Who writes our stories and reminds us why…
Friends are meant to offer reassurance
Friends are meant to speak love through their prayers
Friends are meant to whisper hope to the downhearted
Friends are meant to sing grace to the soul
Friends are meant to be just like you…
So I’ll keep praising the One who led me… to this treasure,
A friend my soul will appreciate forever!
When two set of lips collide in breath
intertwining they merge into one.
As years pass highs and lows deepen,
the sacred tremor repeats infinitely.
How to deepen the soup flavor
I feel as something is missing, frustrating
In the last year, tastes have changed
The power forms the basis of the soup itself
Maybe onions or mushrooms aren't your favourites
Sprinkle a little salt and pepper
taste or smell can actually catch the soup's interest
As pirouettes upward in the uvula
The best thing regarding the soup
is that it consists of different ingredients
Which gives a balanced blend of delicious taste to the mouth
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
soft lines deepen
time's quiet brushstrokes
seasons etched in silver strands
graceful
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