Verse Writing

I don’t write often, and when I do, I release my words without a name. Nothing in this world truly belongs to us—not our possessions, not our thoughts, not even our own existence. We build, we create, we leave traces behind, yet time erases all with quiet indifference. So why poetry? Why shape words into meaning if they, too, will dissolve? Perhaps because, for a fleeting moment, they exist. Perhaps because even the briefest echo is still an echo. Here are some poems.