ARTISTIC TRIBE

Insomnia The night is a stubborn thing, stretching itself thin between my ribs, a lingering hush where love once stayed, where echoes of October still press against my skin. I tell myself I have mastered solitude— that I can carve my heart into an empty room, furnish it with silence, and call it peace. But peace does not knock at my door; only the weight of faces I have met, only the ghosts of maybe, almost, and never. She is beautiful, and that is all. Another, I watch, tracing the spaces between her words, measuring the gaps where I might fit. Some live only in my head— soft, imagined warmth against my palms, laughter spilling into the hollow of my nights. And then there are the ones I pray about, names folded into my lips like quiet petitions, as if heaven might drop an answer between my dreams and dawn. Still, sleep does not come easy. Loneliness is a patient thing, tugging at my eyelids, reminding me— not yet, not yet.

The True Cost I stand with nothing but my pulse, my breath, A heart exposed, to give or face regret. You want the riches that adorn the day, But I ask, love, is this your only way? I could paint you skies of stars and sun, Build you mountains, roads for us to run. Lay before you the treasures the world would covet— But here's the truth you might not have expected: For all the gold, for all the wine, My love is no trinket, no simple sign. I’d offer it all, if you would claim, But you just gotta be worth it—to play the game. What is wealth when hearts are sold too cheap? When the promise of forever is shallow and weak. I’d give you a kingdom if you hold the key, But, love, you just gotta be worth it to stand with me. If you crave the world’s glimmering embrace, Know this: I will give, but at a steady pace. A thousand riches, and yet they fall— If you’re not the one who can bear it all. So tell me, love, what’s the cost to you? Will you rise, or fade from view? For what’s ...

Na Stone Kill Goliath? Facing Life’s Battles with God, Not Just Courage The story of David and Goliath is one of the most famous in the Bible, often told as a lesson in courage. A young shepherd boy, David, stands against the Philistine giant, Goliath, armed with nothing but a sling and five smooth stones. Against all odds, he defeats Goliath with a single shot to the forehead. Many people interpret this story as one about bravery—about how we can face our own “giants” with confidence. But is courage really the key lesson here? Was it David’s boldness that brought victory, or was it something greater? Not by Power, Not by Might David did not step onto the battlefield relying on his strength, skill, or even experience. In fact, by human standards, he was completely unqualified. He was a shepherd, not a warrior. King Saul, the leader of Israel’s army, had been too afraid to fight Goliath, and yet David—a teenager—was willing to take on the challenge. But why? What made D...

Eclipsed Reverie Lo! The fairest thoughts dwell in the gloom, Where phantoms dance ‘neath silver moon. Aye, beauty lurks in murmurs deep, Where secrets waltz and wild hearts weep. Oh, dulce noche, art thou not grand? With ink-stained fingers, I take thy hand. Ven, mi musa, paint the night, With strokes of madness, dark yet bright. Perchance ‘tis folly to chase the storm, Yet in its chaos, art is born. A canvas torn, yet brushed anew, A sonnet scrawled in midnight’s hue. So let the sombras call my name, For genius walks where none dare claim. In darkest dreams, in light’s embrace, The fairest thoughts do find their place.

They Zig, You Zag When they meander in synchrony’s embrace, You traverse the labyrinth of boundless space. While their steps align in a scripted parade, You forge a path where shadows cascade. When they capitulate to comfort’s decree, You defy the tides, unshackled and free. Amidst the cacophony of acquiescent tone, You etch symphonies in the marrow of bone. Their trajectory, banal, a linear refrain, Yours, an odyssey through tempest and terrain. With mettle unmarred by the weight of scorn, You ascend where the audacious are born. When they extol the virtues of trodden ground, You uncover vistas where none have been found. And while their gaze remains fettered, confined, You wield the cosmos as the canvas of mind. So, let their zig mark the rhythm of the tame; Your zag ignites the pyre of your name. For where conformity seeks to reign supreme, You are the architect of an unbridled dream.

Empty Brilliance An opulent glow, yet hollow and frail, A gilded crown, but devoid of the trail. Lustrous mirage in the desert of mind, A beacon that leads yet fails to bind. The shroud of allure, delicate, worn, Conceals the void where essence is torn. Vibrance profound, yet utterly bare, A labyrinth's maze that leads to nowhere. Resplendent in form, but devoid of weight, The gloss of success—so exquisite, so late. It hums in the silence, soft and refined, But never resounds, never realigns. It dances like pearls in a lover’s soft hand, But fades with a touch, like castles of sand. Gilded with praise, adorned in the best, But fractured within, no substance to invest. A cadence that strikes but fails to resound, A myth in the making that never is found. The brilliance, they say, is born of the mind, Yet in absence of truth, what’s left behind?

The Play of Shadows and Time Shadows elongate and then recede, A silent waltz to light’s decreed. They prowl at dawn, in dusk dissolve, A paradox they can’t resolve. Like time, they jest, they feint, they flee, Ethereal threads of brevity. Forever mutable, never confined, Ephemeral whispers of time’s design.