[The Voices]
We are not one mouth
We are a thousand small doors
Open us, and the world speaks back

[The Fisher at Dawn]
I pull the net, and it pulls on me,
like the sea remembers every hand
The sun comes up without a reason,
yet it lands on my palms like bread
I count my days in knots and salt,
but the tide counts deeper things:
names I never learned, storms that never came,
and the quiet weight of what I chose to keep

[The Streetlamp in the City]
I stand where the night gets thin
I do not sleep. I do not pray
Still, moths circle me like tiny thoughts,
and lovers argue under my light
as if my glow could pick a side
I have seen vows made of smoke,
and apologies that could not find a tongue
When morning turns me off,
I learn the same lesson again:
even a small light can make a shadow tell the truth

[The Unseen Listener]
There is a Listener in the dark,
not cruel, not kind, just wide
It does not speak in hard words
It speaks in doors that open,
in seeds that break,
in rivers that will not hold still
So we walk, we fall, we rise,
and the sky keeps its old secret:
something is here with us,
and it does not need our belief

[The Wolf at the Treeline]
Hunger is a clean word
It means: keep going
I follow the deer, I follow the scent,
I follow the rule that teeth must eat
But I also follow the moon,
that pale coin in the cold air,
and I wonder what it buys
In winter, I learn a simple math:
one life feeds another,
and the snow hides the chalk marks
Call it fate, call it luck,
call it the way things are
Either way, the forest keeps breathing

[The Widow's Window]
I watch dust dance in a sunbeam
like little souls with no schedule
His coat still hangs by the door
The house is a book I cannot close
Friends say time will heal,
as if time were a doctor
But time is more like weather:
it changes, and you change with it
Some nights I feel a hand on my shoulder
No one is there
Still, the warmth stays
Maybe the world has hands we cannot see

[The Unseen Listener]
There is a Listener in the dark,
not cruel, not kind, just wide
It does not speak in hard words
It speaks in doors that open,
in seeds that break,
in rivers that will not hold still
So we walk, we fall, we rise,
and the sky keeps its old secret:
something is here with us,
and it does not need our belief

[The Old Book in the Attic]
I am paper. I am ink. I am breath, trapped
A boy opens me and finds a war,
a girl opens me and finds a star
Each reader thinks they found me,
but I found them first
I do not change my letters,
yet I change my meaning,
because hearts are different keys
Once, I was burned in fear
Once, I was saved in rain
I learned the safest truth:
a story can outlive a sword, and still cut deeper

[The Abandoned Satellite]
I used to hum above your sleep
I watched borders, clouds, and fires,
the bright scars cities make at night
Now my battery is a dead mouth
I drift like a thought you forgot
But even here, silence has shape
The earth turns, steady as a promise,
and the sun keeps paying me no mind
From far away, you all look like one thing:
a blue breath in a black room, trying to sing

[The Child with a Pebble]
I found a stone that fits my hand
I name it "Always."
I ask my mother where the world ends
She points at the horizon and laughs
Later, I throw the stone into the lake
It disappears, but the circles stay
That is when I learn
the biggest trick of all:
some things leave without being gone

[The Unseen Listener]
There is a Listener in the dark,
not cruel, not kind, just wide
It does not speak in hard words
It speaks in doors that open,
in seeds that break,
in rivers that will not hold still
So we walk, we fall, we rise,
and the sky keeps its old secret:
something is here with us,
and it does not need our belief

[The Wind, Passing Through]
I am only air
Yet I move sails, I move ashes,
I move the last words from your lips
I do not choose the song
I only carry it
If you hear a lesson in my passing,
keep it gentle, keep it plain:
love what you can,
let the rest go,
and listen close
The world is speaking