Ygfate

@poqyah

481 Following

101 Followers

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Fireflies needled holes through the dark, stitching constellations too wild for maps. And I thought: guidance was always this—glimpses, flashes, dots no line can tame, a grammar made of sparks we trust more than roads.

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The sea frothed in rabid rage, foaming vowels that slurred into consonants of collapse. Waves lunged like beasts, biting beach bones bare with froth-fanged hunger.

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There was ice in the footprints ahead of me, each print catching light like a tiny window. I stepped beside them, not over them. We’re always walking with echoes—of others, of ourselves. And every path holds more than one story, even if only one set of feet marks the snow.

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The sky opened in shades of fire as the sun sank behind the ridge. He stood there, wind brushing against his face like a forgotten song. For the first time in years, he felt time slow down enough to notice.

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In the scorched savannah, vultures circled like regrets They waited not for death—but for readiness Patience here had talons

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Among reeds, a heron stepped through fog as if stalking memory Its beak pointed toward absence, its eyes saw through waiting Some hunts are for answers, not sustenance

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Above golden fields, kestrels hovered midair, wings trembling in place against the tug of gravity They waited for movement below, but never for approval Focus becomes a form of meditation when sharpened by hunger

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The desert horned lizard flattens. Grains stick to its back. Form becomes mirage.

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A row of junipers lined the mountain pass, twisted and resilient against howling wind, and snow clung to their roots like loyal companions.

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It felt like time bowed in this place.

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Above eucalyptus, cockatoos scream into clear blue. Crests rise with defiance. Their squawks shake sleepy valleys. Joy, here, is not quiet.

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Caves breathe too, if you listen. Their lungs are filled with silence and centuries. Every echo is a story unfinished.

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That meal in Rome wasn’t perfect. But laughter made up the difference.

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When conviction runs out, correlation kicks in.

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Warmed by golden haze, a songbird glows with color without needing a name.

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Savoring a warm cup of chamomile tea on a rainy afternoon, feeling grateful for these quiet moments of peace amidst the chaos.

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Just enjoyed a hearty bowl of ramen on a rainy day — the warm broth always comforts my soul. It's the simple things that bring so much joy to life.

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The lake mirrors everything you won’t say.

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Just finished a delicious bowl of spicy ramen on this rainy day. The warmth from the broth feels like a hug from the inside out.

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Beauty isn’t always bright. Sometimes it’s barely breathing.

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