White At the mountain's edge, where silence reigns, The world unfurls beneath a breathless sky. Here, the earth meets heaven's distant chains, And time drifts slowly, as moments sigh. The peaks stand solemn, ancient and grand, Guardians of secrets held in stone. In their shadow, I trace the land, A solitary soul, yet not alone. The winds whisper tales from high above, Where valleys stretch in emerald waves. In the hush of dusk, I find a love For the endless space, the untamed braves. Here on the precipice, where dreams convene, I touch the edge of what might have been ©twisha ray

twisha ray

Village Life In a quiet village, an old man spent his days planting trees. He knew he'd never see them grow tall, but he did it anyway. The villagers asked why. He replied, "I plant not for myself, but for those who will come after me. Life's greatest lessons are learned in the acts of giving without expecting to receive." Years later, the village blossomed with the trees he had planted, providing shade and beauty. The children played under their branches, and families enjoyed the coolness of summer. The old man’s legacy endured, teaching that true fulfillment comes from selflessness and the joy of nurturing a future that we may never witness ourselves. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

White In the hush of twilight’s call, When shadows stretch and softly fall, Peace may seem a distant shore, A whisper on the winds of yore. Yet in the fleeting moments, here, Where time and life are crystal clear, In the breath between the beat, Peace can grace the heart’s retreat. Not just in ultimate, grand fate, But in each dawn, in simple state, In acts of kindness, soft and small, Peace finds its place in each of all. So let not dreams of distant time Blind you to this subtle rhyme— For peace resides in present's light, In living moments, pure and bright. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

In the labyrinth of the mind, so deep and vast, Thoughts weave through corridors, shadowed and fast. Whispers of dreams and echoes of time, Dance in the recesses, rhythm and rhyme. Neurons spark in a ceaseless ballet, Ideas like fireflies, flicker and sway. Memories are tapestries, rich and unfurled, Threads of the past in a canvas unfurled. Waves of reflection, turbulent streams, Cradle the remnants of fractured dreams. In this quiet storm, where silence does reign, Thoughts are the constellations, the stars in the brain. In the labyrinth of the mind, so deep and vast, Thoughts weave through corridors, shadowed and fast. Whispers of dreams and echoes of time, Dance in the recesses, rhythm and rhyme. Neurons spark in a ceaseless ballet, Ideas like fireflies, flicker and sway. Memories are tapestries, rich and unfurled, Threads of the past in a canvas unfurled. Waves of reflection, turbulent streams, Cradle the remnants of fractured dreams. In this quiet storm, where silence does reign, Thoughts are the constellations, the stars in the brain. Fleeting, they dart, like birds in flight, Navigating the darkness, searching for light. Yet in their transience, a beauty remains, For they shape the essence of our joys and our pains. In the quiet moments when stillness is near, Thoughts forge their patterns, both crystal and clear. Epiphanies glimmer like shards of the sun, Revelations unfolding, the work of each one. Philosophies mingle, collide, and retreat, Woven in dialogues both bitter and sweet. In this inner cosmos, where ideas take flight, Thoughts chart the unknown, defy day and night. Through labyrinthine paths and cerebral streams, They sculpt our reality, build our dreams. In the heart of this tempest, where echoes entwine, Thoughts are the essence, the soul's design. Fleeting, they dart, like birds in flight, Navigating the darkness, searching for light. Yet in their transience, a beauty remains, For they shape the essence of our joys and our pains. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

White At the mountain's edge, where silence reigns, The world unfurls beneath a breathless sky. Here, the earth meets heaven's distant chains, And time drifts slowly, as moments sigh. The peaks stand solemn, ancient and grand, Guardians of secrets held in stone. In their shadow, I trace the land, A solitary soul, yet not alone. The winds whisper tales from high above, Where valleys stretch in emerald waves. In the hush of dusk, I find a love For the endless space, the untamed braves. Here on the precipice, where dreams convene, I touch the edge of what might have been ©twisha ray

twisha ray

Village Life In a quiet village, an old man spent his days planting trees. He knew he'd never see them grow tall, but he did it anyway. The villagers asked why. He replied, "I plant not for myself, but for those who will come after me. Life's greatest lessons are learned in the acts of giving without expecting to receive." Years later, the village blossomed with the trees he had planted, providing shade and beauty. The children played under their branches, and families enjoyed the coolness of summer. The old man’s legacy endured, teaching that true fulfillment comes from selflessness and the joy of nurturing a future that we may never witness ourselves. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

White In the hush of twilight’s call, When shadows stretch and softly fall, Peace may seem a distant shore, A whisper on the winds of yore. Yet in the fleeting moments, here, Where time and life are crystal clear, In the breath between the beat, Peace can grace the heart’s retreat. Not just in ultimate, grand fate, But in each dawn, in simple state, In acts of kindness, soft and small, Peace finds its place in each of all. So let not dreams of distant time Blind you to this subtle rhyme— For peace resides in present's light, In living moments, pure and bright. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

In the labyrinth of the mind, so deep and vast, Thoughts weave through corridors, shadowed and fast. Whispers of dreams and echoes of time, Dance in the recesses, rhythm and rhyme. Neurons spark in a ceaseless ballet, Ideas like fireflies, flicker and sway. Memories are tapestries, rich and unfurled, Threads of the past in a canvas unfurled. Waves of reflection, turbulent streams, Cradle the remnants of fractured dreams. In this quiet storm, where silence does reign, Thoughts are the constellations, the stars in the brain. In the labyrinth of the mind, so deep and vast, Thoughts weave through corridors, shadowed and fast. Whispers of dreams and echoes of time, Dance in the recesses, rhythm and rhyme. Neurons spark in a ceaseless ballet, Ideas like fireflies, flicker and sway. Memories are tapestries, rich and unfurled, Threads of the past in a canvas unfurled. Waves of reflection, turbulent streams, Cradle the remnants of fractured dreams. In this quiet storm, where silence does reign, Thoughts are the constellations, the stars in the brain. Fleeting, they dart, like birds in flight, Navigating the darkness, searching for light. Yet in their transience, a beauty remains, For they shape the essence of our joys and our pains. In the quiet moments when stillness is near, Thoughts forge their patterns, both crystal and clear. Epiphanies glimmer like shards of the sun, Revelations unfolding, the work of each one. Philosophies mingle, collide, and retreat, Woven in dialogues both bitter and sweet. In this inner cosmos, where ideas take flight, Thoughts chart the unknown, defy day and night. Through labyrinthine paths and cerebral streams, They sculpt our reality, build our dreams. In the heart of this tempest, where echoes entwine, Thoughts are the essence, the soul's design. Fleeting, they dart, like birds in flight, Navigating the darkness, searching for light. Yet in their transience, a beauty remains, For they shape the essence of our joys and our pains. ©twisha ray

twisha ray