We Are Made of Magic

We are all made of magic,

Woven from wonder and wild dreams.

But somewhere along the way,

Life dims our spark.

We stray from our fairytale,

Not by choice,

But through heartbreak,

Loss,

And the slow, quiet fading

Of belief.

Setbacks leave cracks in our soul.

Failure doesn’t just bruise,

It breaks.

And we forget

Who we were meant to be.

But some of us,

The lucky,

The brave,

The stubborn,

We get another chance.

To rise.

To rewrite the story.

To choose a different path

Or build a brand new one.

And when we do,

Something shifts.

The magic returns.

The purpose sharpens.

And the path lights up

Beneath our feet.

Until, step by step,

We find our way

Back to the ending

We were always meant for,

Not just happy,

But whole. 

Ghost in the Mirror

It started small,

a hush beneath the skin,

a whisper in the marrow,

not loud enough to scream

but just enough to stay.

You carry on,

coffee, keys,

a smile stitched neat

for the ones who say

“you look so well.”

But something’s thinning.

The laughter lands with hollow bones,

and the mirror’s eyes

don’t meet your own.

It steals with grace,

not a thief in the night,

but a guest

who lingers too long

and rewrites the house.

Your soul,

once loud in color,

dances now

in grayscale quiet.

Still there,

but tired of fighting

for the room it once owned.

And yet,

there’s a strange, stubborn light

in the corner of your breath,

a flicker that says:

I was here.

I am still.

Threshold

There was a door.

Not locked. Not marked.

Just there,

in the quiet between

what was

and what might be.

Light leaked around the edges

like memory,

or maybe promise.

I stood for hours,

listening to the stillness

on the other side.

No voice called.

No hand reached.

Only the hush,

that strange hush,

when you realize

no one’s holding you back.

And so,

I stepped through.

Not into flight,

but into space

wide enough

to breathe. 

Wings of Freedom

High above, where the heavens sigh,

The birds take flight, no chains to tie.

They dance with the wind, wild and free,

Carrying whispers of eternity.

No borders drawn, no walls confine,

The open sky is theirs, divine.

With every wingbeat, bold and true,

They chase horizons, ever new.

No master calls, no tether holds,

Their journey’s path is yet untold.

Through sunlit days and storm-kissed nights,

They soar on dreams, on boundless heights.

Oh, to be like them, to rise,

Unburdened under endless skies.

To leave behind the weight of fear,

And fly where only freedom steers.

The Unscripted Life

Adulting is hard,

Parenting even more…

A daily grind of silent battles,

Behind every closed door.

Each learning curve

Takes the wind out of your sails,

Plans derail quietly,

While the to-do list prevails.

With every high,

A deeper low awaits,

Joy and fatigue

Walk hand in hand through the gates.

No guidebook,

No tutorial to follow,

Just instincts shaped

By nights spent hollow.

Bills don’t pause for burnout,

Kids don’t wait for rest,

You’re judged by outcomes,

Not the effort you invest.

You juggle roles,

Chef, driver, healer, friend.

Every day a paradox,

No beginning, no end.

You build dreams with tired hands,

Patch wounds with whispered grace,

Hold it all together

While losing track of your place.

Yet in the stillness of a hug,

The chaos finds its peace,

In the messy middle of it all,

There’s a strange kind of release.

Not every lesson comes in light,

Some arrive in storm and ache,

But the life you shape in fragments

Is the masterpiece you make.