The woods were quiet but not silent. The wind carried memories between the branches. The leaves murmured things forgotten. And the one who walked did not speak, for there was no need. Words had grown heavy in the world they left behind.

They followed no path, only instinct. Drawn ever onward by something unseen. Sometimes, in the distance, a pair of eyes would watch. Gentle, deep, unafraid. And each time, they would follow.

Nights came soft and cold. They lit fires of fallen limbs and watched the sparks rise like lost voices. In the crackle and hush, they remembered. Not in sharp pictures but in feelings—the warmth of someone’s hand, the sound of laughter in another life. It hurt, but sweetly. Like a scar, you no longer mind touching.

Then, one night, beneath a sky woven with stars, the deer came close.

It did not run. It did not speak. But in its stillness was an answer.

The one who walked understood. Some things are not meant to be held, only followed. Some healing does not come in circles but in long, quiet lines through wild places.

They did not return. But the forest remembers them.

And sometimes, if the wind is just right, and you are very still, you may hear footsteps among the leaves—not lost, not wandering.

Just walking.

Whispers Without a Sound

Be appreciative of the people in your life.

Wish You Were Here (For Steph Redmond)

After Jesus finished- and the miraculous catch, Peter said "Depart from me, I am a sinful man"- https://www.jayopsis.com/2025/03/peter-simon-comes-undone-pt-3.html

Depart From Me- The Life of Peter

When The Sun Goes Down

It’s your smile and your eyes
I think they’re green, you say they’re blue
Your laughter and your sparkle
The everything of you

I Put It All On You

Its November And Its Late

About coming of age. The feeling of being both a young adult and an old child. Exciting and scary at the same time. And to be an adult witnessing this process. We all have at some point been in the shadow of our own.

The Shadow of Your Own

We Didn’t Say Goodbye

Стихи © Ник Эль Энн
Музыка © Катаев Владимир
И это всё о НЁМ...

Жизнь - что считалочка до ста,
Рассветов хмель, закатов солод.....
Бог одинок, увы, и стар,
Точнее, скажем так - не молод.

Он посещает мир тайком,
Читает Бабеля и Пруста
И любит кофе с молоком,
И пирожки с морской капустой.

ОН властелин семи колец,
Я - двух ( и то лишь - обручальных),
Но всё земное, наконец,
Ему не чуждо изначально.

Над головой алеет высь.....
Я окликаю вновь упрямо:
Ау, прохожий! Оглянись!
Не ты ли ОН - тот самый-самый?..

Wish You Were Here (For Steph Redmond)

False Negative

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