This is a request from the bottom of my heart. I put a piece of their soul into this book, dreaming of the day it would find its readers. I’m asking you, begging you… please be one of my readers. If you’ve ever wanted to support an author’s dream, if you’ve ever wanted to get in on the ground floor of a new series you can fall in love with, please give The Shadow Realm Chronicles: Maeve a chance. This is how dreams live or die. Please. Read it. Fall in love.
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I lost a friend today,
A simple, heavy line
That should descend like sorrow’s shroud,
A grief for what was mine.
I waited for the cutting edge,
The sting of sudden pain,
But found instead a strange relief,
No shadow of a chain.
I should be sad, should mourn the end,
The history we knew,
Yet in my chest a lightness wakes,
Defiant, strong, and new.
The truth is stark, the choice is clear,
I look upon the past:
I am not sorry that it broke,
I am simply glad at last.
The severing was not a hush,
But clash of will and word,
A necessary, cleansing fire
Where my own truth was heard.
I stood firm in the tempest’s heart,
Refused to be denied,
And drew a boundary, sharp and deep,
With nothing left to hide.
The lesson’s hard, but vital known:
Respect must be the core.
A friend should cheer the victory,
And lift you from the floor.
Your champions, they must remain,
To hold your spirit high,
But when support becomes resentment,
The basic contract dies.
When ally turns to critic’s shade,
A drain upon your soul,
They’ve breached the terms of fundamental trust,
And lost their rightful role.
The choice is not of cruelty,
But self-preserving might,
To cast the anchor from the boat,
And step back toward the light.
Assess the ones within your ship,
As you begin to rise;
Not all are rowing for your cause,
Some paddle with disguise.
Your soaring ambition reveals their truth,
Their loyalty gives way,
As jealousy’s shadow clips your wings,
And clouds your brighter day.
So now I mourn the anchor lost,
The friend who pulled me down.
The feeling is no sad despair,
But freedom’s joyful crown.
A paradoxical, weary joy,
A wish that bonds would hold,
Yet still the weight is wholly gone,
A future to unfold.
The boat is lighter now it sails,
The struggle set aside.
I’m rowing, finally, alone,
With nothing left to hide.
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A steady beacon, you appear,
When shadows gather and I fear
The path ahead is lost and gone
In darkness where I walk alone.
The sole voice of my reason’s plea,
The anchor of reality,
When the world spins with chaotic strife,
You are the breath that restores my life.
A silent force, you bring me peace,
A quiet, beautiful release.
Let tempests rage and gales descend,
Let the harsh winds their fury lend.
Let towering waves crash on the shore,
Threatening to consume all.
Yet, armed with our bond’s deep might,
We will endure, we will unite.
Unbroken, we will conquer all,
Our spirit standing strong and tall.
A lighthouse in the darkest squall,
Together, we will never fall.
While others scatter sparks of joy,
And fill my days without alloy,
Their collective light, a vibrant beat,
Is not the power to complete.
They give my life its rhythm’s art,
And cause the beating of my heart.
But it is you, the vital source,
The enduring love, the steady force,
That keeps my heart on its true course.
You are the reason for life’s continuance,
The core, the heart of my existence.
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Wait Your Turn
They bid us work, and strive, and strain,
They preach the gospel of grit and pain.
The virtue of patience, a long-held breath,
Wait your turn, they assure, until death.
With diligent toil within the system’s fold,
Good things will come, a story often told.
They hail the high road of academic might,
Perfect grades, degrees, and the burning night
Of all-nighters, leading to institutions grand,
The path to success paved by a diploma in hand.
The central command, the mantra they impart:
Work hard, and success will fill your heart.
But the hollow sound their pronouncements make,
From a sheltered world, for goodnes’s sake.
A place sustained not by relentless effort’s cost,
But by the legacy that was never lost,
By exclusive gates and a lineage long,
A privilege entrenched, where they belong.
They fail to grasp the truth that grinds us down,
The doubled effort just to keep the crown
From slipping, just to stay where we began,
Disconnected from the struggle’s rigid plan,
That harsh existence which our lives define,
While they stand above, on heights divine.
What they possess, we desperately lack:
The insulating cushion on wealth’s track,
Money that shields them from survival’s fear.
They wield the power that holds the system dear,
Shaping the rules, not merely influence slight,
And connections unseen, a web of pure light.
A network of favors, a whispered invitation,
Opportunities passed through each generation,
A resource worth more than all the sweat we’ve spent,
Yet they command us to be more intent.
They stand on their platforms, elevated and cold,
“Work harder,” they shout, a story getting old.
This directive is a self-serving slight,
A useful tool for a blinding light,
To justify their perch, so high and so neat,
To placate the masses, a narrative complete.
Keep us focused on the effort of one,
Ignoring the structures, the battle unwon.
But now we pierce the veil, we understand,
Too long we’ve labored at their harsh command.
Our youth and our fire poured into the drain,
For a system of diminishing, aching pain.
We know by the certitude of what we live,
That harder work will not be enough to give.
It cannot breach the walls that they have raised,
It cannot lift the life we’ve always praised,
Nor close the chasm wide that separates
Their world of ease from the heavy fates.
The meritocracy’s promise, their comforting theme,
Is a fiction, a sermon, a vanishing dream.
It is a sham, a lie both vast and bold,
A hollow pretense, a story bought and sold.
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The silence stretches, wide and deep, a space
Where my small ‘hello’ falls without a trace.
I check my phone, a habit worn and true,
A faint, false hope that maybe it’s from you.
The thread of connection, I’m the one who weaves,
The constant opener, the one who believes
That if I pause, if I just let it be,
The silence would grow to infinity.
I map the distance, gauge the growing gap,
And I’m the one who always has to ta
Upon the glass, the careful, gentle nudge,
To prove our bond isn’t built on a grudge.
I know your news, the triumphs and the strife,
Because I ask about your life.
I hold the mirror, catching all the light,
And listen late into the lonely night.
But oh, dear friend, a quiet, simple plea
Sometimes I wonder, do you think of me?
When the dark shadows start to close me in,
And my own battle is where I begin…
I wish just once, without a prompting word,
The unexpected check-in would be heard.
To see a message, a small, unsolicited sign,
“Are you okay? How are things on your line?”
To feel the warmth of being sought and seen,
And know I’m valued, not just a machine
For comfort given, always on the call.
I long to know I matter after all.
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