Poems On Life's Journey Novels & Stories

‎ ‎In the laughter of children. ‎ ‎In the quiet of elders. ‎ ‎In the turning of seasons. ‎ ‎In the ordinary miracle of a life lived with open hands. ‎ ‎And it was enough. ‎ ‎For always.

My grandmother's hand was really cold. So cold it sent a shiver down my spine. She went in closer toward me with a child-like wonder in her eyes. "Zack is coming back, right? I heard it on the phone. Is he giving me a surprise?" My heart tightened. It felt as if someone were squeezing it hard. Zack and I had grown up without our parents. We survived on scraps because our grandmother raised us by scavenging trash. She always said, "Once you two are old enough, I will finally get to enjoy my life."

There were no words inside—just a single blade of wolfgrass, pressed flat and blackened with age. It reminded me of the moonlit forest, where I'd pledged my love to Leon when we were young. Under the ancient tree, we were just young wolves who had exchanged vows of lifelong love, enveloped in the pure moonlight and the scent of one another. Time passed since then, and what was lost could never be gained back. I held the withered blade in my palm. A sudden breeze through the car window caught it and blew it away. Kane and Sean leaned in close, huddling next to me.

Only she knew the answer. Finn seemed to understand but didn't press her. Instead, he simply nodded. "Alright. In that case, congratulations on embarking on a brand-new journey in life." Something in her chest tightened. A brand-new journey—was that really possible? She had considered her previous marriage a complete failure, but even now, all she had managed to do was bring it to an end. Nothing felt new. Nothing felt like a beginning. They walked together in silence until they reached the empty classroom where the supplies were stored.

A tribute: Lady Bana’s Poem: “Life is a thread we weave in storms, Stitching dreams through quiet forms. We rise, we fall, we burn, we freeze, We beg for time, but Time won't cease. Death is not the end, my friend, Just a bend where echoes blend. You go where silence drinks the light, Beyond our reach, beyond our sight. But I, who stay, must wear the pain, A sword of loss, a crown of rain. Farewell, my sword, my foolish warrior, The game is now on, and I must fight to avenge.”

I may have lost all hope in life when my mates betrayed me, but I found hope again, and I’m looking forward to this journey. Life isn’t full of roses, but it’s up to us to make our beds with them. THE END

Nisha's pov 🗯Life is a journey and the road we travel has twists and turns which sometimes leads us to the unexpected places and unexpected people. But in turn it always lead us to our destination🗯 How true the lines are.... Life is very unexpected isn't it. We will dream about something but it will happen the opposite. Once I hated my life down to the core because the situation was like that and now everything changed completely and I am loving this phase.

“The god that flies on the wind, exchanges an oath with fate, The god travels on the wind with its roaring wings. The light of the beginning sparkles.. sparkles.. The light of the end.. lulala lila. The flames of hundred of millions of lives, fall smoothly and became stars. Flowing, flowing, they are beautiful, And then once again, in the cradle of life and death. They froth slowly. Sing. Sing now these two wishes, Strongly.. strongly shine the god of heaven, They speak of eternity.”

Yet, it was in the crucible of adversity that the raw metal of naivety was tempered into the steel of maturity in the long run. Life's journey was a winding path, littered with the shattered remnants of shattered dreams and the scars of hard-won lessons. But it was in the gentle whisper of divine guidance that the lost traveler found solace, a beacon of hope to navigate the treacherous landscape of life's trials and tribulations

The grief of being weak as he waited for the evil men to shoot his family. His life fleeted before him and he was there spectating it all over again. "Life is ephemeral like the wind in a stormy day," he couldn't help but be poetic. With his words, in this mysterious place, a gust of wind appeared out of nowhere and blew with it the scent of spring, and it was immediately gone like a popping bubble without sounds.