@IAMholy_grul
Some walk on roads of silver light,
while others stumble through the night.
Not for lack of strength or will,
but walls of silence standing still.
A voice unheard, a dream delayed,
the world unevenly portrayed.
Yet seeds of change can break the ground,
when hope is shared, and hearts are found.
The sunrise whispers a secret: yesterday has no hold on you. Lay down the heaviness, breathe in the morning, and walk into today as though the world has been rewritten just for you.
Accept the skin you live in,
whether light as dawn
or deep as midnight,
each shade is a verse of beauty.
Accept the body you carry,
slender, soft, or strong,
the moon is round,
the stars are small,
yet both belong to the same sky.
Accept the life you walk,
whether rich in gold
or rich in patience,
true wealth is the kindness
you leave behind.
For acceptance is strength,
and love is freedom.
Whoever you are,
whatever you hold,
you are enough
a small token of kindness [ 17th september 2025, wednesday ]
broken fury, dead incitement, delirium stitched in emotions. yearning winds, fanning destructions, branches that bury their homelands.
systemic disorientations, horrors owed to joys that bleed. mysterious differences, confusions constructed, alarms that ring but souls that refuse to awaken.
blaring conquerors, forgotten tunnels, coffee cooling beside unmade dread. thrumming fingertips, raging purposes, metamorphosis: humans crawling, carrying everyday banters.
the sun with a thousand eyes, the night with hidden crimes, feathers drowned in poet's ink. sorrows of lyrics, wings lost in the blue, life that feeds one melancholy, souls distilling it into hope.
#adropofhumanity
Roots once whispered in shadows deep,
Dreams lay hidden, lulled to sleep.
Rain carved strength through tender skin,
Sunlight called the bloom within.
Each scar a map of where I’ve been,
Yet here I rise, reborn again.
a small token of kindness [ 09th september 2025, tuesday ]
a round table,
a conference of triangles,
fortitude or servitude?
a decision to be sought.
pages of emotions
and binders of spiral thoughts,
moon's decorum splintered
in the group aubade.
hollowed warrior first,
stepped and stood upon,
soundless glare
with edges bruised.
happiness arid,
interrogation drying,
forts and castles
over murdered merits.
and then a joy—
foreign and known—
repenting its birth.
mind of the crumbs,
heart of the loaves.
no trek can trample
the path of a trickster.
a lone chill, a surrounded cry,
traces of impulses
in the fireplace of life.
a wardrobe of escape,
mumbling telephones.
rotten tales and
tatters of the pretenders.
guests excused,
world locked-up,
and again—
the uncaring rouse
protects to betray.
the sky of memory
chokes
the birds of today,
like fluttering sage.
oh souls of flesh,
how similar are thoust—
from one to another—
you migrate in your palm.
#adropofhumanity
Beneath each scar, a seed will grow,
Through storms and trials, strength will show.
From whispers deep, a bloom will rise,
A soul reborn beneath the skies.
a small token of kindness [ 01st september, 2025 — monday]
words plated in heirlooms, heavy with light,
tinkling cuts, dazzling wounds —
weaponry forged from childhood gloom,
wars cradled in a mother’s stolen womb.
windmills bow above folded clothes,
grandmother’s peach crumble cooling on the sill.
cottages lean, tethered with ghosts —
growth a gamble, memory the wager.
tender hearts rest in greasy hands,
coloured proses, begotten rhyme.
measuring the gaps of fleeting hours,
tidy rooms against the storm of rest.
roads of chemicals, an age of hearts,
souls displaced, refugees of home.
effervescence rushes, skeletons mist-bound —
a tale as old as precedents.
labyrinthine dashes, nuance permitted,
olives of faith, olives betrayed.
a marathon — glass slippers sublime —
and all of life becomes a floor for dancing,
a garden for incitement,
a bloom pressed against time.
#adropofhumanity
Do not measure yourself by storms endured,
but by the light you gave while the winds raged.
Even in nights without stars,
your glow may guide another home.
a token of kindness [ 24th august, 2025 — sunday ]
where comes the chaos? soar and sin, the culprit,
from the lodging inns. surrendered and sought,
beavering, bold— a little of the timid, a lot of the known.
swinging with pride, doors left unknocked,
a guest invited under intoxication’s hold.
forging, jeopardising, guided by homely apple-pie servings; bruised words swept beneath the rug of humility.
barks and bellows, odours, open wounds,
entangled chairs and a single creaking move.
whisper, then wait, tremors that carry
a mouth of screams— beginning and dying
in a parched throat.
kalopsia and kites— a guest like ropeburn,
pricking like wine. mindful maps, mindless routes,
sanctuaries like lies that bury the truth.
shadows stumble, shoes fade—
a blessing strikes a menace, transforming a paper cut into a prayer.
#adropofhumanity