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In Song

by Liam

In song, the soul takes flight,

A river of melody, endless, bright,

Filling the hollow where silence grew,

Each note a thread, each breath a hue.

You pour yourself in waves through me,

An intoxicating fragrance free,

Lingering long like twilight’s glow,

A flash of warmth the night must know.

I gather it as one gathers air,

Silent, unseen, yet living there,

A spark, a pulse, a quiet flame,

A nameless call, yet still it came.

And as the veil is drawn away,

We find the dawn of endless day.

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Resonation

by Liam

A stillness calls—

Not with sound,

Not with words or melody,

But a breath,

A pulse,

The echos of what lies beyond.

In listening, I dissolve—

A part of the hum,

The endless ringing,

A resonance folding me

Back to the source,

Forward to the now.

This is what holds—

This is what sings—

The quiet truth:

Love,

Unbroken,

Through the beloved.

No beginning, no end,

Just the rhythm of being,

Alive in the silence.

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The Ancient Oak

by Liam

Could that ancient oak but speak,

A voice whispered hymn through mist and smoke,

Sharing the lore, the woes, the fight,

Of times when swords they smote by night.

Shields clashed loud, men screamed their pain,

Lances cracked on the battlefields plain.

But seasons turned, as seasons must,

Bones grew quiet beneath the dust.

The swords grew dull, the fires died,

And peace crept in where war had cried.

Now, my branches wide stretched with grace,

A haven for birds, create timeless space.

Yet deep within my ancient rings,

Remain echoes still of warrior kings.

Of whispered oaths, of valor’s mark,

Of life and death in the forest dark.

Had I but a voice, I’d sing it true,

To the tales of men and what they knew.

But I am oak, rooted and wise,

My stories held firm in the earth and skies.

So here I stand, through the years unbroke,

The silent sage—the ancient oak.

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The Blessing of a Poet

by Liam

May a poet’s insight ignite,

Your own deep flame, so outlast their time. 

Your spark, a wick, an ember of life

Will still burn long after the writer has gone.

In your hands, these words becomes a sun,

Its rays, the quiet insight of a page.

Through each thought, a luminous lens,

Dispersing your infinite circumference of wonder.

Though my body may pass onto shadowed rest,

The radiance you awaken will remain.

Threads of gold stitched into the fabric of days,

Binding hearts to horizons of yet-unspoken truth.

May these words dwell, as light in those who seek,

Find endless comfort within their depths.

And in the silence after we have spoke,

May your insights lead those others home.

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My Friend called Hope

by Liam

You shine through darkest nights unseen,

In a quiet, steady glow,

The warmth that kindles weary hearts,

And guides through loss and woe.

It’s in those shadows deep and dreary,

When light feels far away,

It’s your whisper soft that dares me on,

To face another day.

Though storms may rage and doubts arise,

Your strength remains so true,

The faithful spark, untouched by fear,

That leads me always through.

I am the flame that won’t go out,

The spark you cannot see,

A gentle, quiet, steadfast friend—

I am hope—and I am free.

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Embrace Gratitude 

by Liam

Be grateful for ….

Gratitude rises, gentle as the dawn,

Unlocking life’s fullness, so pure and wide;

What once felt scarce now feels warmly drawn,

A wealth within where little did reside.

Gratitude softens denial, let’s unfold,

And chaos yields to quiet order’s flow;

Confusion clears a steady truth takes hold,

Perceptions weave in peace where tangled thoughts would go.

My humble meal becomes a joyous feast,

Four walls take warmth and turn into a home;

A stranger’s face reveals a friend released,

New light discovered where we thought alone.

With gratitude’s touch, our world finds its grace—

Caress the smallest moment each held in soft embrace.

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Awaken to the mystery

by Liam

May you wake each day

To the quiet pulse of wonder,

Feeling the current of new ideas

Which stir beneath your surface,

Like the cosmic river of stars across each night.

Let your thoughts explore, fly,

Through that open doorway into the unknown,

Follow them, step through, heart quickening 

To the thrill of a fresh discovery,

The mystery is as yet untouched, unnamed, untamed.

Be alive to the unexpected,

That quiet astonishment

Hidden in each moment—

The way light bends through leaves,

Or a familiar voice finds a new song singing, 

Savor each drop from this well of wonder,

This feast of beauty and daring,

For once the mind awakens to its depths,

It becomes a lasting passion,

Forever a refuge to your wandering wondering soul.

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The River

by Liam

Before she reaches the delta of surrender,

the river reflects, trembling with its wisdom.

She feels the memory of mountains behind her,

the cradle of stone from which she sprang,

the whisper of forest leaves she carried,

the villages her nourishment watered,

the winding ways she carved with song.

Before her now, the waters-edge of all she was—

the vast arch of the wild blue ocean.

It’s here her story seems poised to vanish,

forgotten in the endlessness of sea.

Yet there is no return, no retreating.

No refusing the law of nature’s anatomy,

for the journey only leads onward,

toward something vaster, greater than herself.

So she yields, surrenders to the oceanic embrace,

and as her waters merge into that vast unknown,

Her fear washes away like a final shadow of night.

For she has not been lost, nor scattered,

but gathered—gathered into the fullness

of her own becoming,

by dissolving into the wholeness 

of who she’s always been.

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The Gift

by Liam

The greatest gift you can ever give someone isn’t wrapped in shiny paper or found in department stores. It’s the quiet, profound permission you offer that says, You are safe here. You are seen. It’s the kind of gift that whispers, “You don’t need to change or shrink; just be.” It’s a gift that lets someone breathe freely, knowing they are enough—perfectly and beautifully enough—just as they are.

When you give someone the feeling of being enough, you become a mirror that reflects their light, their beauty, their worth. You help them strip away layers of doubt and insecurity, revealing a person who is radiant and whole. They no longer have to perform or prove themselves in your presence. You create a space where they can just be, where they are loved simply for existing.

This isn’t a gift of grand gestures or loud declarations; it’s the steady reassurance, the soft reminder, the comforting presence that stands with them in moments of uncertainty. You offer a safe harbor, a place where they can stand tall in their truth, knowing they are neither too much nor too little. They are, simply and profoundly, enough.

When you give this gift, you become a light in their darkest corners, the warmth in their moments of doubt. You become the one who truly sees them, beyond any masks they wear, beyond their fears. And because you see them, they start to believe in themselves again. They learn that love isn’t something they need to earn—they already deserve it.

This is the gift that transforms everything. It’s the gift of belonging, of being truly seen and held, of feeling welcomed just as they are. In giving this, you tell them, with every word, every glance, every action: You are whole. You are worthy. You are enough. And that’s a gift no one can ever take away.

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The Wild Wind on Adderley Street

by Liam

Beneath the weight of the SE wind, men clutch their hats,

Gripping by instinct, as if the very sky would steal them.

Women, proudly too struggling , imprisoning their hair in turbans, scarves,

Grasping at skirts that flutter like prayer flags in a storm.

Newsboys, small and stubborn, hugging their papers tight,

As though the headlines might anchor them in this gale.

Head down, humanity bends,

Locked in combat with this unseen Goliath.

This ruthless Philistine of the air, unseen yet fully felt,

Catching all unawares, lifts them like leaves—

Mocking their frailty, then moving on, indifferent,

To toy with some other fleeting prey.

It makes passes at the bulky double-decker buses,

But they, impervious in their dignity,

Hold course, windows sealed like armor,

Unbothered by his wild, untaxing rage.

Overhead, the wires tremble and sing,

Their song a shrieking as it surges through them,

Hysterical in its fury, a promise of chaos unshed.

Down Adderley Street, roars

A stampede of wind, unstoppable and fierce,

Rushing toward the ocean as if all the world could be swept away.

Pedestrians and traffic alike are caught in this reckless chase,

The power shakes the earth beneath their feet.

Yet still it finds mischief,

Dredging dust and litter from the cracks,

Dancing with debris as though it were treasure.

What joy must it have known in a century past,

When yellow sands were lifted from the town square,

Spiraling upward in a wild abandoned pirouette.

Flung against windows, a furious reminder—

That the South Easter is an old thing, and this street but a fleeting guest.