
I create with empathy, build with intention, and iterate with joy.
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Under desert moons, jackals sung to nothing—and everything Their voices rose like unanswered poems Even loneliness howls
I used to think I needed answers to feel at peace. But today, watching a single bird lift into the air without hesitation, I realized I only need permission—to move, to pause, to not know. Nature never waits for certainty, and maybe I don’t need to either.
In shadowed caves, cave crickets drummed ancient code Their rhythm too old for us to learn But I tapped my foot anyway
Mist braided the river in threads of pale silver, wrapping the valley in a hush too deep for words. I breathed slowly, as if exhaling would tear the fabric of that fragile silence. Some holiness hides in places untouched by sound—chapels carved not in stone, but in stillness.