The sky was her only limit.

Her wings widened until they couldn’t fit in the room,

As she kept believing and transcribing her inner world

Line with line, creating galaxies of metaphors.

There, the stars’ glow consisted of her feelings,

The planets were gravitating around her thinking,

The harmony was unbreakable.

Suddenly, a meteorite landed on her realm.

Her wings were torn apart by the impact,

She returned defeated to her tiny room.

Trying to write, the poetic imagery became blurry,

As thick fog was taking over her galaxies.

Puzzled, she was searching for an explanation,

How could the harmony be shaken to its core?

The people passing by remained quiet,

Until the echoes of silence crystallised into a meteorite.

The sky seemed unreachable, between walls of stillness,

She couldn’t fly anymore, her room was abducted by darkness.

When treacherous thoughts would engulf me, when my emotions weighed too heavily,

When every response turned into an endless spiral.

My own soul seemed to speak in an indecipherable language,

The moonbeams were the only ones that could touch it.

The surrounding sun burned me, angst consumed me,

Whereas inside, a shattering emptiness,

An eternal void hosted by the lack of connection.

Outwardly, nothing seemed amiss, the mine of suffering was hidden from the world’s eyes,

But in the midst of the storm, it exploded.

The lightning bolts were tailored faithfully to the outline of my insecurities,

The butterflies of my youth were thus driven away.

It’s not about any other enemy, no one is attacking me, my fiercest adversary

Is myself.

I tried to scream, the voice of my soul echoed against its own walls,

I tried to cry bitter tears, they were shaking the foundation of my being,

I tried to shut myself away, I lost myself in the cave of my spirit.

The heart’s screams fell silent,

The tears evaporated,

The door to my inner self bolted.

Original version (Romanian)

Am inceput sa simt ca ma urasc din primaverile adolescentei,

Atunci cand gandurile perfide ma inghiteau, cand trairile apasau prea puternic,

Cand orice replica se transforma intr-o spirala fara sfarsit.

Propriul suflet parea ca vorbeste intr-o limba indescifrabila,

Razele lunii erau singurele care il puteau atinge.

Soarele din jur ma ardea, angoasa ma consuma,

Iar pe dinauntru un gol nimicitor,

Un void etern gazduit de lipsa conexiunii.

In exterior, nimic suspect, mina de suferinta era ferita de ochii lumii,

Insa in mijlocul furtunii, exploda.

Trasnetele erau croite fidel dupa alura nesigurantelor mele,

Fluturii anilor tineretii erau astfel goniti.

Nu e despre alt inamic, nu ma ataca nimeni, cel mai aprig adversar

Sunt chiar eu.

Am incercat sa strig, vocea sufletului se lovea de proprii pereti,

Am incercat sa plang cu lacrimi amare, temelia fiintei o surpau,

Am incercat sa ma inchid in mine, m-am pierdut in pestera spiritului.

Urletele inimii au amutit,

Lacrimile s-au evaporat,

Usa sinelui s-a ferecat.

Hello lovely people, this one is a more personal poem, about some lingering feelings that have followed me up until now, but luckily softened meantime.

If you have gone through this burden, of your mind working against you and feeling like your light slowly fades, I just want you to know that you are not alone in this, one step at a time, we can certainly overcome the hardships, strength and hope are our wonderful superpowers.

If you have any thoughts you’d like to share, I’ll be more than happy to read them in the comments, take care of your beautiful souls, with love, Elena <3

I dreamed of your aglow eyes last night, 
I whispered to the moon and she brought,
Memories of us in return to my request,
Loving you was my most challenging quest.

Collecting traces of your legacy in my mind,
Storing them in my verses, reunited by the wind,
Confessing to the trees, the forest now cries,
Missing what it never had, breathes in sighs.

Pouring her regrets in a glass, it tastes sour.
Never dared to unlock the drawer of flour,
Used to bake her heart’s cake, that he devoured,
Without ever thinking twice; her soul stuttered.

She looks out the window: a bird chirping,
Holding tight its soulmate; Emotions sing,
In the back of her head, the past spins,
Although she fights it, remorse wins.

She allows herself to feel it all, every nuance,
Of her sky’s changing moods, even if they dance.
She begins to fly, the space doesn’t seem enough,
Yet she can’t control her wings; Intense, tough,

Oscillating between firmament and underworld,
Her consciousness distanced itself, as if sold,
By her spirit which craves freedom, peace,
Lost within archived sentience of bliss.

She suppressed for way too long, in a jar,
Hidden feelings begging for release; Ajar,
The corridor of her soul receives light,
Being able to clarify a once blurred sight.

Consumed by her heart’s waves, she finds herself empty.
Opposite to hollow, she assembles the pieces of her identity,
As her inner self resembles a serene, emerald meadow,
Although she grieved at dawn, I’m no longer a shadow.

I hope you will enjoy this poem my friends, if you have any thoughts you would like to share in the comments, I’d truly love to hear them <3

Leave a comment

If you would like to see more of my work, I’ll be deeply grateful to have you here along my journey and thrilled to discover your unique stories;

With love, Elena <3

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The mind might forget, caught up in the tumult of everyday life, but the soul remembers. It stores all the palpable memories, each wavelength of its shards is defined by a frequency of the loved one’s velvety voice, the glow of his eyes, lastly, his alluring energy that could dance with the rays of the sunset. My spirit became intoxicated by his imprint. Every interaction reflecting a tiny bit of affection feels like a resurrection both for my never-ending devotion and my unhealed wounds. Wounds carved in my bones by the weapons made of uncertainty and contradictory signals. Hope and fear intertwine, resulting in a dangerous carousel where my heart remains suspended between heaven and hell.

But does she care about all the risks? Absolutely not. She becomes familiar with the sensation of that seductive, captivating realm of possibilities doomed to ruin in the outer world, yet blooming even more within. The greater the challenge, the profoundness of the attachment to the illusion amplifies. Amidst the complexity of the situation, I morph into a wanderer in my own mind. I struggle to figure out an escape, but my heart disobeys. She keeps me trapped in the tangled maze formed by my sentience and my conscience. An endless back and forth between following the overwhelming desire for the warden of my feelings or the wish of protecting my well-being.

Gradually my emotional state becomes strongly linked to his behaviour towards me, the atoms of my happiness are covalently bonded to the lattice made of his words and actions. When he shows up, the colours appear brighter, the music finds its way direcly to my core, the laughs are contagious. When the silence descends, the lights of my inner world go out. In this prevailing darkness, my liveliness cannot be accessed. Hidden behind his lack of response, it takes the shape of a lost memory. The single purpose of my heart, to feel his closeness, is now out of reach. She turns into a shadow of her once shining chambers, pulsing weakly, her blood is infected with the venom of his absence.

So how does she come to terms with the disappointment? She doesn’t. She makes every effort required to dismiss the affliction of feeling abandoned. She travels back in time to the moments where he was the sweetest, where the caress of his soothing and genuinely endearing confessions touched her. With the pieces of his unevenly distributed tenderness and ardor altogether, she builds a pedestal reinforced by her faith in a future requited love.

But the mind … my judgment remains perplexed observing the fatal gap between her perception and the actual course of events. It cannot comprehend how things have gone so far. Thus, my mind firmly intervenes and issues a strict order: he must be forgotten. No more imagining, no more weaving a love story whose existence is certified only by my heart, no more infinite interpretations; the ending has arrived.

Suddenly, the lights from her chambers start to flicker. She is confused beyond words; she is supposed to … stop feeling? The soul mumbles “Where will our cherished moments exist from now on”? It continues whispering while shaking: “My backbone will collapse, I was retrieving my energy right from this chapter of your life”. On the other hand, she is left speechless. What will she do next? If she is kept alive by the nourishment of their bond, she is destined to perish. Therefore, she stays silent, the chambers return to darkness.

She grieves quietly, her tears roll down my cheeks without a sound, the taste of salt is their only trace. Not only did I lose the incomplete chapters of our romance, but I also lost my heart. I miss her infectious ecstasy for life, her way of experiencing everything to the fullest; without her, I am hollow. After a while, my mind begins to be compassionate for my poor heart, noticing how I became a ghost since its command was imposed.

Surprisingly, the judgment decides to drop the established rule and allow me to choose how I will approach the matter. It didn’t surrender, nor abandoned me, it only released my heart and has given me its trust. Once freed, the windows of her chambers reflect flames of excitement, she reclaimed her essence. Oh, how much I was longing for that inspiring spirit!

Yet unexpectedly, she doesn’t implore me to get in touch with him. She simply vibrates due to felicity, but oddly enough, she seems whole … without him. When I glance back, my soul firstly displays memories with my beloved family and friends, with me writing, reading, listening to music, with a corner of paradise in the mountains. When I look for his tracks, he appears to be somewhere in the secondary plan.

My mind trusted me, my heart healed, and so did I.

The pen feels too heavy,
The pages stare at me,
Wondering what my heart has to confess.
Yet I don’t have the answer.
The dizziness whispers to me it’s the time to rest,
But the soul demands its right to speak.
The soothing song in the background keeps playing,
The words start gathering on paper,
The pen shows up, the journal listens.
My spirit takes over my right hand.
He opens up and tells my diary that he is tired,
He is disappointed by the person who claims to love me.
“The flowers of her garden wilted, she wants a brighter life.
She desires to be more independent,
To regain her freedom and glow.
The flap of a butterfly’s wings feels so vivid,
Once engraved in her smile, appears now faded.
Her reality oscillates between the breeze and the storm,
Thus, the butterfly got lost in the horizon.
Somehow, she begins to fly among the lines,
So, I will allow her to speak her mind,
As I am at peace, at least for now.”
She doesn’t have anything left to add,
Only gave me a short message to send:
“Thank you, my dear friends, for helping me become in touch with myself again.”

Thank you for reading my friends, and if you have any thoughts you would like to share, we’ll be more than excited to find out about them in the comments! < 3

The tangled lattice of my mind, resembling a maze,
Was defined by unconnected wires covered by a haze.
When the exit door seemed nowhere to be found, disoriented,
I looked out the window and I saw a gift of nature, scented,
With a fragance of hope which traveled its way up to my senses,
A miracle disguised in ordinary silhoutte, defying appearances.
While traversing the atmosphere, the moon rays descended,
Decided to leave us a mark of their splendor and wended
Their route in the flower kingdom, crafting a delicate symbol,
Of purity, innoeence and liveliness reflected by a child’s dimple.
The fragility and elegance of snowflakes was hence preserved,
In the lovely shade of stars’ light designing a butterfly shaped,
Unique creation which reminds us that freedom, love and wonder,
Leave their esssence in the heart of fascinating little treasures.
Each shape, a gift,
Each petal, a prayer
To leave the mind and share
The senses without hiding
In a grownup’s shame and proper wording.
Rather to dance barefoot, flirting,
Though the thoughts say “too soon,”
We lower the blades the mind wields,
We bend like the wide leaves,
Launch worries across fields,
To be shredded in the sunlight
Of an ordinary afternoon.
And in the night, we claim our power.
We write sonnets to the moon,
We change colors like these flowers,
Honoring their white to grey,
Celebrating early hours
Through the closing of the day.

I tried to burn the past so I could save the world,
Yet it would disobey my attempt and remain cold,
Frozen in time, nobody can contest it; thus, I surrender.
I contemplate in denial the repercussions and I wander,

Underneath the roots to scout for proof of renaissance.
Puzzled, I discover hidden in a thorn the quintessence:
The past was never meant to be sintered or cleaved,
It needed shaping, meaning seeking and to be sealed,

As the cause of destruction wasn’t embodied by the course of life,
But by our reckless actions and hasty choices that cut like a knife.
Owning up to our inconsiderate deeds and learning from our mistakes,
Represents the elixir for reviving and brightening the blue of the lakes.

I wrote this poem while thinking both about my personal painful experiences and about the collective suffering our society has gone through, wishing that all the sorrow could be miraculously erased from our existence. Not much into this thought process, I realised this impossibility comes with a crucial lesson: the history of tragic events is meant to be analysed and carefully delved into in order to hinder its recurrence. I know it isn’t a new discovery by any means, but I just wanted to remind myself and anyone who comes across my poem that even if our past is already written, we are capable of changing the future’s route. One is not defined by their mistakes, but by their ability to admit the harm done, repair the outcomes, and improve their mindset together with their behaviour.

Living in the fast lane, everything happens on autopilot,
Caught in a continuous race, we exceed the speed limit,
Not enough time to fuel, we run on empty and get lost,
Forget where the start line was, endlessly we sprint.

Never looking back, we cross past our boundaries,
Until the sensation that something's missing occurs,
We cast our eye behind: forests clad in mysteries,
While our mind is struggling to decipher, the cure's, 

Patiently waiting to be released from our wise souls,
As they know the destination is closer than we think,
Once our path's direction is remembered, the lows,
Suddenly will gain meaning, the leaves will be in sync.

You may wonder what the green painting signifies,
How the initial location connects all the scattered dots.
Thus, it's time to reveal the answer, as it dignifies,
All the established laws, entirely harmonizing your thoughts.

Listen to your heart and you will find out that the route,
Begins with nothing, apart from your gifts, situated inwards.
Looking back now, you'll admire all the sunsets and soothe,
Your wounds with their beams, so take a seat in your backyards,

Allow yourselves to become fascinated by the following decoding:
The finish line belongs nowhere but our souls' sanctuary,
Taking shelter in the fast lane, we drifted apart, under the loading,
Of the pressure's weight, we stained our core with misery.

Relieved, we realize there isn't any need to rush,
Stopping for a while to charge, came to our senses,
We achieve peace and the engine's noise - hush,
As the race ended, we return home in victory:
We reclaimed our essence.

Sometimes there’s comfort in pain.
A familiar notion, oddly welcoming,
Which gradually transforms into your home.
There’s certainty in suffering.
It doesn’t ask questions, it doesn’t flinch,
Without hesitation, it remains by your side.
Even when no one watches, it is there.
Sorrow doesn’t ask for permission,
It arrives with a grip of ice in your chest.
At every breath, it releases an ocean of smoke,
Leaving your coughs of ache inevitable.
Yet at a certain point, you begin to embrace it.
The pervasive entity slowly infiltrates
In your veins, your bones, lastly, your spirit.
She becomes one steady resort,
You realise you return to in case of need.
And sometimes, she’s the only one that can hold you.

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If my words resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts and feelings.

With gratitude for being here with me, Elena <3

Until the death of thin lies.

Caress my cheeks with your breath,

So my skeleton can survive your theft.

Every blooming bud of my skin depends on

Your eyes' light so they can grow; A throne,

Forged from wings of hope and raw desires,

Abducted by your smile's sly intention as wires

Restructuring the crystal lattices of my brain:

Emotions create porosity in my mind's grain,

Morphing to an amorphous state - reminiscing,

Is the catalyst of this transformation; A sting,

Of the present propragates through my soul

Scarring the unknown missing parts; I crawl,

To reach the bottom of the tunnel to peace,

Until your touch activates my senses; A dice,

Rolls as you gamble my feelings in the game called love.

Photo by Mery Khachatryan on Unsplash

Collecting thoughts engraved on the sand dunes,

Floating sensations and ideas, for preserving them,

Add a couple of paper pints - unusual, but I have a tip,

Let magic and your soul create the

unexpected,

Then stir the ingredients until lines of

raindrops form.

Take a step back, admire what you already accomplished,

Use your heart's pencil and fill in the blanks of the shore.

Now you are prepared for the next step, trust me?

Capture the beams reflected by a lake at dawn in a jar,

Pour the content in the pot when the moon reigns,

Steal a glimpse of fresh air from a butterfly's wings beat,

Combine it with a guitar riff from a campfire,

Afterwards watch your potion glowing with life's treasures.

Yet this isn't all, throw in five teaspoons of heaven:

First contentment, second peace,

Third creativity, fourth genuine connection,

Saving the most precious one for last:

The blessing of feeling alive,

Of navigating between the realms of different states of mind and spirit.

But what makes it special is surprising maybe,

Not incomprehensible, not intricated, yet often forgotten:

Showing up everyday in this world,

As the sincere, kind and loving soul you are,

Emanating purity wherever your path led you.

Thus, to be concise,

Being yourself,

Allows the spell to unfold,

The secret cross-linker that crystallises the ethereal potion.

Photo by Gabriel Kraus on Unsplash

Thank you so much for reading and don’t forget to allow the magic to unfold in your lives💫🌙

I would preserve their light and warmth in sealed jars,

Then I’d offer you as a gift along with the engagement ring.

Yet I still feel it’s not enough, so I ask the birds a favor: to sing,

A serenade to express the sentiments carved in my heart,

As they may have a sacred knowledge of exhibiting a form of art,

That compresses all my emotions torn from the heavens end,

Where the passion meets with devotion and smoothly blend.

Until I gather for you the celestial bodies, I’ll make sure,

That the sorrows are distanced from your soul’s shore,

Your heart is held by soothing hands and my embrace,

Finds the antidote for your indigo tears with elegance.

Let’s fly amidst the sky of our eternal love carelessly,

Spend magical nights searching for sense endlessly,

Losing ourselves in each other’s flaming eyes,

Only to discover the meaning’s trapped inside.

It emerges as the embodiment of our spirits’ depths,

Which consists of the everlasting nature of art’s breath.

If I had taken shape, I would have been a shadow,
Imprinted on the background of your mind; every evening,
Becomes a test of conscience, the insecurities,
Are the pillars of the verdict’s decision; the threads
Of identity erode because of the darkness,
Which engulfs thought and the meaning of feeling.
I would have followed you at every step, asking you:
“Are you sure you’re enough? What if your heart lies to you?”
With time I would take on darker shades,
And your trust and hope would be drowned.
I will present myself as your only companion,
Until you are convinced that this sample,
Is your home from now on, forever.
I will be the haunting echo after every breath,
Amplified by the conviction that you have no getaway,
Even if your soul knows of your escape:
The rainbow is closer than you think,
By releasing the light from within you, you will see,
That shadow will vanish like an illusion,
It will dissipate once you reach a conclusion,
That its essence is transient and deceptive,
Since it does not reflect your truth as such.
Though its impact is veridical, its sentence,
Is nothing else than an imaginary being, 
Of uncertainty taking the lead to the detriment of,
Your abilities and competence buried in the soil of the psyche.

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Original poem:

Dacă aş fi luat formă, aş fi fost o umbră,
Impregnată în fundalul minții; orice seară,
Devine un test al conștiinței, nesiguranțele,
Sunt pilonii de decizie ai verdictului; ațele
Identității se erodează din pricina negurii,
Care acaparează cugetul și sensul simțirii.
Te-aș fi urmărit la orice pas, întrebându-te:
“Sigur ești de ajuns? Dacă inima te minte?”
Cu timpul aș căpăta nuanțe mai întunecate,
Iar încrederea și speranța ta vor fi înecate.
Mă voi afișa drept singurul tău companion,
Până când vei fi convins cǎ acest eșantion,
Este al tău cămin de acum înainte pe vecie.
Voi fi ecoul bântuit după fiecare respirație,
Amplificat de convingerea cǎ nu ai scăpare,
Chiar dacă sufletul cunoaște a ta evadare:
Curcubeul se află mai aproape decât crezi,
Eliberând lumina din interiorul tău, o să vezi,
Că acea umbră va dispărea precum o iluzie,
Se va disipa odată ce ajungi la o concluzie,
Cǎ esența ei este temporară și înșelătoare,
Întrucât nu reflectă adevărul tău ca atare.
Deși impactul său este veridic, a ei sentință,
Nu-i nimic altceva decât o închipuită ființă,
A incertitudinii preluând cuvântul în detrimentul,
Abilităților și competenței tale scufundate în pământul psihicului.

An innocent glance with undertones of tenderness,
Genuine interest blossoms in wings of bright eyes.
You’re surprised by the touch of creamy sun rays,
Finding their way out of your laugh that portrays,

The flow of a clear river amongst the wisdom of mountains,
Following the unfolding of my feelings veiled by the curtains,
Of my uncertainty and hesitation forming an indigo flood,
That spreads its love drops in the purple rainbow of blood.

Breathing red, I burn for you, my heart bleeds with passion,
My soul yearns for you in undefined terms, building a mansion,
Where it made a pedestal out of your contagious, hypnotic light,
Along with seductive, peachy lips that could conquer even the night.

Wildest dreams of a fiery love are taking over my senses,
The evening star of my universe consists of your essence.
Control seems like a notion detached from my poor mind,
Which is possessed by your fragrance; How can I remind

You from a life that I didn’t live before?
Why can I recognise your presence in my veins?
The oxygen circulating within the chambers of my heart,
Becomes poisoned in the absence of your kisses that leave me breathless.

Intoxicate me with your flavour, drag me down into abyss,
To rescue me by engraving my skin with your touch of velvet.
Every spot caressed blossoms into petals of euphoria and desire,
My demeanour disobeyed the judgment, I’m all yours.

Thus, I surrender.
My clarity is absorbed by your charm,
My soul found its shelter in your ethereal eyes,
Just hold my heart tenderly and don’t let it go.

In nature we become lost,
Among the woods: our host,
Rose petals of hope chirp and dance,
Being by myself evolved into sense.

Tougher the battle, clearer the frequency of laugh.
Guidelines fade as dreams unfold in no rush.
Leaves gently whisper a folktale, being witnesses,
Of passers-by' countenances, their glances' nuances,

Inviting you to an art exposition depicted in sapphire, 
Where kind and welcoming wisdom reigns; The dare, 
Consists of unlocking the hidden magical power:
Can you just exist in silence and not wonder,

Whether your worries are true, if you're enough,
The quiet is a safe space or the voices are rough?
Contemplating the lake's still water, blue as the sky,
Dark thoughts drown in its depth, crumble as a thin lie.

The flute holds the birds' musical notes, carried by the wind,
The background melody of your life starts to play, events bind,
Yearning diminishes as the rhythm follows the bubbly clouds,
Each emotion assigned to a star finds its constellation; Pounds,

Of tension and anguish turn to dust, their reflection vanishes, 
Serenity rises peacefully, as the landscape brooms the ashes.

I know the process of stopping from being so harsh on yourself is a difficult and long-term one, so I won’t give general advice. But what might be useful is asking yourself the following question: “If my dearest friend would go through this situation or would have made this tiny mistake, what would I tell them?” Therefore, my suggestion would be to start treating yourself as your own friend, not as an enemy, one step at a time.

Burdens remain at times engraved in our souls, they don’t vanish miraculously. Low self-esteem is a quiet sabotaging weapon, the wounds don’t bleed, they progressively deepen and painfully expand until the basement of your spirit collapses. When you cast your eye inside, there are branches of guilt and regrets suspended in the foggy air. The emerald forest of your shiny inner world dissipated. Thus, you desperately look for wood to rebuild your trees, you unconsciously beg other people to borrow a few slats. Several kind fellows are willing to aid the refill of your stock, yet conflicted, you figure out the pieces don’t match your painting. The nuances are out of place, although bright, they lack vivacity. The dimensions don’t fit, no matter how you rearrange them.

Disappointed, you begin wondering whether you’re at fault. You whittle the battens in disbelief, paint them in different shades, only to draw the conclusion that everything’s in vain. Left with no solutions, you abort the mission and struggle to forget, to avoid that place as it would be haunted. It works for a while, until shadows are crawling out of the forbidden sanctuary. They whisper: “You tried to abandon us, but we’ll never disappear.” Frightened, you lock the door and swear to never return.

After some time passes, while the dawn is leaving a purple trace behind, out of the blue, a tree shape of a perfect emerald colouring is emerging in the horizon. Perplexed, you have flashbacks from bygone days, with an unexplainable state of serenity wrapping around your soul. You remain in silence, contemplating the scenery and allowing your senses to absorb the fragile, yet pervasive sentiment shaping within your core. Feathers of hope levitate amongst the sky of your essence, as you slowly feel their touch and elegance caressing your thoughts.

Suddenly, a magnetic echo propagates through your mind with a sound of silk, engraving words of a grey forgotten truth: “We told you we’ll never leave your side.” Relieved, you assemble the pieces of the past heart-wrenching experience: the shadows weren’t the embodiment of evil forces. They were your allies all this time, the testimony of your inner structure stepping towards your conscience. Sending you signals not to reconstruct the arbors of your spirit, but to visualise and remember. To learn how to observe again the treasures hidden in the backyard of your soul, to remember their meaning and to embrace their presence.

Astonished, after following this heavenly guidance you will discover that the pure, vibrant forest of your inner world is in fact intact. It never needed restoring, adjusting or any type of change, it just patiently waited to be acknowledged and returned to. Precisely as your home, the sanctuary of your being cannot be complete unless you’re present, without fears or blurry sights taking over your judgment. Since you found the calling and the courage to take a look inside, without any filters, you finally attained bliss, while the glow of your forest spreads its beams eternally.

Laid back on the chair on your porch, a realisation suddenly contours itself in your mind while the birds chirp in the background. The trees of your essence are also your friends you can reach out to for confessing, the branches are gentle, insightful thoughts you can go back to when feeling lonely. The journey of acquiring the sweet relief of trusting yourself isn’t a linear or facile one, but it represents such a fulfilling and uplifting process.

Therefore, every time you doubt yourself or your progress, remind your heart that she is irreplaceable. You are precisely in the place you were meant to be, even when it doesn’t seem like this. Destiny has mysterious ways for leading us on our fated path.

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If my piece stirred something in you, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

With love, Elena <3

The sky opens its doors and allows us,
To catch a glimpse at its splendor, thus,
We take our chance and contemplate in awe,
The once in a lifetime miracle that we saw.

Despite its evanescent character, it somehow,
Succeeds to leave a mark in its trace of how,
Fleeting moments can last forever in our memory,
As we rewrite over and over a never-ending story

Of the wonder that transformed our perspectives,
In an irreversible way, now becoming detectives,
For the meaning of our own life; it can only be
Found during our journey here and we'll be free;

Released from the doom of the soul; Saved,
Our redemption comes from within; Carved,
With bare hands in emerald, our truth is sacred,
Glowing eternally whereas the dimness is buried.

Each raindrop holds a line of poetry and gently lands
On the ground forming a raw poem between the sands.
We struggle to read the letters and order the meaning attached,
Yet they refuse to behave, thus the mystery remains untouched.

The music resounds too loud, but I can only hear,
The thoughts sneaking in: the demons come near,
Although I hunt them, they leave a trace of despair,
Their legacy – gaining the loss, I become their heir.

The feathers of the conversations fly far away,
Leaving me behind to figure it out and to pay.
But the fee doesn’t confine in anything material,
It requires my loneliness and memories on trial.

Found guilty of not establishing boundaries, therefore,
Allowing others to benefit from my kindness, just for
Them to watch me bleeding when I need their help most,
While the ones that hurt my soul deepest are the closest.

As a result, my decided sentence is pithy, yet succint:
Learning how to assert myself, to be strong like mint,
When they make waves, but to keep my refreshing flavour,
Whilst my company deserves it; The devil did me a favour,

Compelling me to obey his final verdict, but I become numb:
This denies my sensitivity, yet I can’t even raise my thumb.
The dark scent disappears along with all the noise, in my room
A metallic silence reigns, inviting the reflections to blossom.

Today I witnessed a lady in the subway worrying too much about her appearance, because she was telling me, as I was seated in front of her, that she got dirty on the pants because she came with the maxi taxi from the countryside. Perhaps she thought that I was staring at her legs wearing the pants which were only a bit dirty, just in a place, but in fact I didn’t even notice the tiny stains and it didn’t even occur to my mind to draw some conclusions about her in any way.

Therefore, I reflected a bit about this brief encounter and realized that I had experienced the same thought-process in the past, when I had the impression that somebody was judging me or looking directly at some flaws - very obvious from my point of view - but in fact they didn’t even take those into consideration.

In reality, people don’t critique us as severe as we expect in our perception, they might not even observe some aspects about ourselves that we stress about so deeply. What deceives us into believing they would behave this way is a very specific mechanism. We have the tendency to focus only on the negative parts about ourselves, on the insignificant errors that we make, on how we might embarrass ourselves if we don’t perform ideally, sometimes not even taking into account our qualities or competence. We often overlook our brightness, beauty, intelligence, kindness to the detriment of our confidence and self-respect, allowing the anxiety and distress to take over our judgment. As a consequence, we become too self-aware, let the inner criticism evolve into a sabotaging weapon.

The situation resembles being frustrated because a few pieces from the puzzle of our identity are shuffled, instead of being proud that we accomplished putting in place the majority of them. In other words, stepping aside and trying to visualise the bigger picture would be a part of the solution, to realise how minor the effects of those mistakes or flaws actually are when we see the scene in perspective.