TORCH
will light
children’s mind
shapes a heart to shine
burns a passion to dream
glaring sun for future wins
“education is lifetime torch”
It is so hot outside that the Statue of Liberty has put her torch down
And the torch has been extinguished
Underneath the New York Harbor, the flame is subdued.
Imbued, and the glue which holds this city together.
We still stand tall as her torch falls
Amidst the heat and the summer blues
Gathering our strength as New Yorkers
Resilient, we stand with an inner spark
That makes us distinguished and cannot be extinguished!
Underneath the sun that swells to its cusp
And musters up shining light, covering the city in every corner!
It is so hot outside that our inner spark sparkles like firecrackers
Unable to be contained, we move and cannot be obliterated
By the sole whims of the magnificent sun!
We will live on and on with a shining light undone!
Inside I am burning flame to life,
the goal to ever existing being
Aspirate aspiration of a functional organism,
animal we are instinctively portrayed
Torch inside, survival urge beating heart
forever pounding life's perseverance
Night are day endless sleep yawn success,
among steps of Victoria achievement
What is a man his sight without light,
oxygen it takes burn that
it could not without
We come a human soul in mist of wasteland,
beauty persist we rip apart it's soul
Oui Oui, desecrate lady upon once was
united nation a war zone to
billionaires, cartels and themselves selfishness
Unity, freedom, love, words of vocabulary peace
minds corrupt pure hearts
But depths darkness not darken the gorge
But the end our thrive be with thirst,
where water; upon wasteland poison
destruction lay scene
Human existence I have not seen days,
belly rumble thin flesh left cover
Bones weaken strength a stick holds up,
giving hope mankind has a dream
The torch, triumph reason and knowledge
over oppression
A beacon, prosperity unto God himself
be claim for love, honor
and glory my flag I salute
My
dearest,
shed a tear,
light a candle,
love Christ completely.
Then go, spread the gospel,
true defender of the faith.
Reach near and far, press on my love;
never give in, nor settle, and know...
'For to live is Christ, and to die is gain.'
For my beloved.
(Poem a day)
01.07.2026
Olympic flame, a stolen piece of sun,
balanced in my unworthy hands,
half a mile—just long enough
to feel the weight of history
and the lightness of being chosen.
my footsteps left no mark—the fire did,
brief, bright—symbol of the fire within.
The Ancestral Pen
when passing down
to heirs apparent
is thus endowed
Its ink distilling
what time cannot
a legacy willing
what can’t be bought
The Ancestral Pen
rewrites the tome
of generations
that sat the throne
From voices distant
to voices near
the torch is passed
— the future clear
(The New Room: December, 2025)
A weather vane, swiveled on its spindle, catching a cold breath of tomorrow.
It was a wind that carried no sound, only the promise of change. Below, in the
hushed valley, the world lay in wait. Only the winds knew how deep the snow
would be—a blanket vast enough to quiet the earth, or merely a dusting of the
coming dawn. The vane held its rigid vigil, a silent prophet of the chill that
seeped into the marrow of the air.
It was all quiet, dormant in layers of hope. Yet the wind was still there. Like a torch. It will be, it will come. It was as if it wispered, I lay here, the wind of change, brought on these shores by the aeons. I am no easy. I am a torch, the promise of love, to be carried by those that are awake on these dormant landscapes.
Tonight you'll rise
from the ashes of a story
no one claims
Strike a light, toss the match,
face awash, watch it catch
There's glory in the flames!
The trust you've earned blackened and charred,
just turn and cross back through the yard
and let fire burn to dust what remains...
If, as the saying goes,
'There's no smoke without fire,'
is it smarter to ignite a spark
(illumination causation)
than bedamn the dark,
and thereby induce a funeral pyre,
or, better yet, a safer bet,
to avoid gossip and accusations,
find the substantiated fact(s)
(true datum)
before you act
and land in sorry situations?
It's no joke, on soot you'll choke,
yet, on the greener side,
carry the torch for earth non-scorched
but best your light you hide,
(it may be life-transforming)
beneath an unburnt bush,
so as not to incur global warming.
To speak the truth in a world woven with lies is to set yourself on fire like a torch,
Just to prove you were never made of wax melted under absent gazes,
They praise polite silence, mute nods, and false smiles that hide the void,
But they tremble when your words come unfiltered, sharp, soaked in everything they fear,
And they act as if speaking facts is a sin that burns under the light of day.
You offered them honesty, and they returned it cracked, called you cruel for bleeding openly,
In a world that only applauds masks, where every truth shatters into unheard echoes,
Being honest is a heavy task, not just a simple policy, but an effort to remain whole,
And even in democracy, where voices should be free, honesty is viewed as a flaw.
So, if you think telling the truth is simple, oh, no, sir, it's an unwavering mission,
A dance on the sharp edge of society that prefers to hear only what is sweet and soft,
But perhaps, in this fire, courage will be found to burn all masks, to light the way,
To a world where truth is no longer a burden, but a release from the chains of lies.
For you, who must remain in Asphodel,
We weep for you, who have forever fell.
Yet we, who lost the moment, gained all time.
In falling, do we hope that others climb.
And though we lost our little lot of Earth,
We wish upon it all a grander birth.
Though life is for the living, not the dead,
Your lives our dreams, when we are gone to bed.
For the dreams of fallen fighters
Are the walkways of our world:
Be they heroes, be they blighters,
We’re the fabric they unfurled.
How much to those departed do we owe,
Whose bloods and brains didst build the world we know!
For sunlight rolled from off their learned tongue!
For ancient are the thoughts, forever young.
We paid no slavish homage to the past,
Nor failed to lend our glory to our day.
Take then our best, and nothing more need last,
And let thy beacon cast a brilliant ray.
We live as long as you recall our name.
We held the torch, and now we pass the flame.
For teachers are the torch the gods may send,
Whose patient light, the wounds of darkness mend;
Who, but they bring beginning, there be end.
As we embraced in the enveloping darkness of his front porch,
I am filled with peace and warmth, knowing I will always hold this torch.
Shrouded in secrecy: love comparable to a scorch.
You are much like the cosmic light
Who set into the flesh of plight
Shining in the world that all see
O Light, be merciful to me
You are much like the blue sky’s heart
Your elect, even when apart
Are the light beams and veins of thee
O Light, be merciful to me
You are much like morning’s birthplace
When you shall leave, due to your grace
Your veins will return home with glee
O Light, be merciful to me
You are much the celestial guide
We love your free children worldwide
For you alone are with the free
O Light, be merciful to me
You are like the golden kingdom
You anoint children with wisdom
As if you are the living tree
O Light, be merciful to me
You are like the celestial torch
The holy flame without a scorch
Lives in all your elect we see
O Light, be merciful to me
You’re like the Khufu ship of light
All who feed your children in plight
Will leave this dark sea as the free
O Light, be merciful to me
Inspired by the The Kephalaia of the Teacher, Chapter 67
At the end of another summer day
Rainbow of deflated asses crotches and breasts strung along our deck railing
Flail like a Tibetan prayer flag
Under the smoky umbrella of burgers and brats
Grilling for dinner
Souls adrift from their left behind soaked skin
The sleeves and pantlegs re-begin
Arms and legs jog in place
In the cool lungs of a dry evening breeze
Moon sheen of shoulders and knees
Minutes before dawn
Creased pressed and ready for a new day
They kick and whisper rearrange themselves by order
A titter of
Generations past present and future
Here the people come!
Grandpa and grandma moms and dads sisters brothers
An army of kids teenagers to toddlers
Hurray! One by one
Like rays sprung from the sun
Once again
Off
The dried suits are plucked
Hot bodies slip back into place
Here we go
Body and soul
Made whole for another summer day
Of swimming.
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