Synchronized Chaos’ Mid-May Issue: Life in Transition

Image c/o George Hodan

“God is Change.” — Octavia Butler, The Parable of the Sower

This month’s issue explores how individuals and societies navigate change, uncertainty, and transformation. Through poetry, essays, cultural criticism, artwork, fiction, and scholarship, these works examine what it means to stay human in a rapidly shifting world, while searching for meaning, connection, identity, and resilience.

Our issue starts with contributors looking directly into time, change, and transformation. Jacques Fleury speaks to seasons, renewal, and the passage of time. Patrick Sweeney’s monostich poems explore transitions, nostalgia, and fleeting but precious moments. J.K. Durick draws on airports as a metaphor for connection, disconnection, and transition. Roberta Beach Jacobson addresses identity, impermanence and transformation in her poetry. Nozimova Shukrona highlights how travel can facilitate personal growth, learning, and development. Tursunova Mehrinoz Oybek qiz outlines the process of self-discovery, career and intellectual development. Laskiaf Amortegui encourages readers to focus on the present and future, drawing on heartbreaks as catalysts for the future rather than letting romantic disappointment hold us back. Elaine Murray celebrates the warm, gentle beauty of the country on a spring day. Brian Barbeito speaks to the deep mystery of the sea as rendered through different works of literature, and to the continual change of seasons.

Image c/o Nicky Pe

Other writers speak to love, longing, and human connection. Mesfakus Salahin reflects on the importance of love and freedom in a changing and fragile world. Joshua Obirija somehow misses a place he’s never been. Stephen Jarrell Williams expresses love, longing, nostalgia, imagination, and a sense of vulnerability. Milica Tomić begs a lover to return to her and renew the early days of their relationship. Yuldasheva Xadichaxon Bahodir qizi laments a lost love. Lan Xin speaks eloquent words of comfort to those living through romantic heartbreak. Eva Lianou Petropoulou rejoices in the power of love to overcome difficult situations. Soumen Roy’s poetry “Lonely River” is a reflective and introspective piece that explores themes of love, isolation, growth, and resilience. Kholboyev Mashrab offers love and respect to his caring mother. Abdusalomova Marjona Jahongir qizi celebrates a mother’s unconditional love. Polina Moys celebrates family, kindness, children, and gratitude for everyday blessings. Bakhadirova Rukhshona remembers the love of a caring grandfather figure. Saparboyeva Laylo Hajiboy kizi’s short story relates how mothering can bring people purpose and help them move forward after loss.

Some people engage in existential reflection and the search for meaning. J.J. Campbell’s lyrical works explore disillusionment, existential crisis, and the search for meaning in a decaying world. Jelena Jovanović illuminates existential crisis, nihilism, and the search for meaning. Sterling Warner’s poems rebel against conformity and consumerism, turning instead to inward spirituality. Sayani Mukherjee explores the concept of soul, the essence of a person, and of a society. Duane Vorhees’ poetry speaks to duality, paradox, repression and authenticity, and the subconscious and the power of nature. Daniel G. Snethen and Alex S. Johnson’s spider poem suggests that existence is cyclical, with life and death being intertwined and perpetual. Elena Nedelcu’s poems present a dreamlike, iridescent view of the world, speaking to self-discovery, love and connection, and spiritual searching.

Some look into war, violence, and historical memory. Alan Catlin’s work probes propaganda, wartime violence, and the “banality of evil” with destruction amidst cultural entertainment. Joseph C. Ogbonna critiques hubris through an epic take on Napoleon’s military downfall in the Russian winter. Marjona Karshiyeva Zoxidjon speaks to war, loss, and the longing for peace. Jernail S. Anand urges people to integrate the lessons of history into today rather than consigning historical figures to the past. Su Yun’s pieces point to the impact of violence on a child’s fragile psyche and the power of art to enhance resilience.

Image c/o Gerd Altmann

Still others explore themes of identity, society, and cultural critique. Ken Poyner touches on the fragility of relationships and social norms and the blurred lines between order and control. Mark Young’s intertextual work sends up a mishmash of names and identities, high and low culture. Alex S. Johnson critiques the propensity of the healthcare system to use its soft power to generate clinical narratives that can override patients’ lived realities. Later, he lampoons celebrity culture through an essay on the off-screen personality of Willem Dafoe. Hilola Sharipova reminds young would-be Internet influencers to focus on character rather than fame and appearance. Muslima Murodova reminds us to look beyond first impressions and avoid snap judgements in social situations.

Literature, art, and creativity are often important vehicles by which we hold onto and communicate our humanity amid change. Kobulova Madina outlines the types of heroes presented in Russian literature and how the concept of heroism has diversified in recent years. Harinder Cheema revels in the power of poetry to foster creativity and transcend cultural boundaries. Ozodbek Narzullayev honors the power of poetry and the calling of being a poet. Shahnoza Amanboyeva adds her thoughts to the question of artificial intelligence’s effects on artistic creativity. Dr. Reda Abdul Rahim compares themes of imagination and facing the unknown in Haruki Murakami’s Murder of the Commander and the ancient epic of Gilgamesh. Murtazoeva Shakhnozabonu advocates for youth to study classical Russian literature. Fhen M. celebrates and honors the lengthy heritage of literary and popular musical and literary culture in his evocative poem. Tuychiyeva Odinaxon Axmadjon qizi looks into how globalization and nationalism are simultaneously influencing Uzbek art. In an interview with poet Eva Lianou Petropoulou about his Hyperloop project, where he collects short poems from around the world, writer Alexander Kabishev discusses what he’s learned about innovation, collaboration, and perseverance.

Several writers look to education, language, and learning as facets of human creativity. Jumanazarova Nafisa speculates on the advantages of online vs offline education. Orinboyeva Sayyora and Maxliyoxon Yuldasheva discuss various pedagogical approaches to improving student communication in foreign languages. Soliyeva Dilshoda Tokhtamatjon qizi highlights ways to use fairy tales to improve language learners’ speech. Alimardonova Gulsevar Sirojiddinovna offers up a comparative analysis of terminology in English and Uzbek. Shohista Narzulla O’ktamova qizi discusses nouns and adjectives in Uzbek dialects. Norqizilova Layla outlines the potential roles for artificial intelligence in education. Feruza Otaboyeva suggests that students should volunteer for the sake of helping others, not just to pad their resumes.

Image c/o Gerd Altmann

Several of these writers focus on the transformation of society through labor, industry, and modernization. Rakhimova Dilafroʻz Axrorjon qizi explores the food industry as a living expression of Uzbek identity, showing how nourishment becomes a bridge between cultural continuity and modern commerce. Umarova Muattarxon Akromjon qizi similarly examines the garment industry as both a practical and symbolic force within Uzbekistan’s evolving economy, where tradition is stitched into the fabric of contemporary life. Oʻrinboyeva Ziynatjon’s discussion of big data expands this transition into the scientific and technological sphere, portraying a world increasingly shaped by information systems that redefine medicine, research, and communication. Kholdorova Durdona Odiljonovna looks deeper into medicine, outlining the physiological mechanism of inflammation. Muxtorov Xabibullo Kozimjon o‘g‘li discusses modern methods for reactive electrical power compensation. Nigora Tursunboyeva weighs the promises and dangers technology presents to younger generations, illuminating the tension between digital opportunity and emotional vulnerability. Jamilova Zaxro’s work on digital diplomacy further reflects a civilization adapting its oldest political practices to a rapidly interconnected world. Meanwhile, Jalolova Ruxshona Nosir qizi, Ubaydullayeva Fariza Sheraliyevna, and O‘rinboyeva Zarina Xabibullo qizi examine risk prediction and logistics modeling, emphasizing how modern societies increasingly rely upon technology and data to navigate uncertainty.

Yet transition is not only technological or economic; it is deeply moral and psychological. Nazarova Hamida turns toward the humanitarian wisdom of Uzbek poets Alisher Navoi and Abay Qunanbayuli, whose works remind readers that periods of change require compassion and ethical grounding. Hua Ai’s reflections in Quintessence similarly argue that meaningful social transformation begins within the self: before one changes the world, one must first confront one’s own consciousness. Zinnura Yo‘ldoshaliyeva explores the psychology of risk-taking, capturing the fragile threshold between fear and courage that accompanies every major life decision. Xasanova Aziza Kumushbek qizi encourages readers to resist the crushing weight of criticism and maintain dignity amid judgment, portraying resilience as an act of survival during moments of personal upheaval.

Many of these works also examine what it means to remain human within unstable environments. Hauwa Hassan Haruna presents one of the collection’s most striking paradoxes: women are often forced to become invisible for safety while simultaneously fighting to remain visible enough to claim dignity and rights. Erkinjonova Bibisora Elyorbek qizi offers another quiet portrait of vulnerability through her empathy for a lonely older man, suggesting how aging itself becomes a transition into isolation and invisibility. Bill Tope mourns the disappearance of inexpensive comic books and childhood treasures, tracing the painful shift from youthful abundance into nostalgic loss. His reflections remind readers that even ordinary objects become markers of changing eras.

Image c/o Gerd Altmann

Against these anxieties, several contributors seek refuge in tenderness, imagination, and connection with the natural world. Ananya S. Guha dissolves the boundaries between human beings and nature, envisioning love and belonging on a planet overshadowed by climate crisis. The poems suggest that humanity’s survival may depend upon rediscovering intimacy with the earth itself. Student works collected by Su Yun return readers to innocence through playful clouds and animals, preserving moments of wonder that adulthood often forgets. Christina Chin’s haiga, centered on kittens and their protective mother, offers an image of care and familial devotion amid uncertainty. Likewise, the poem by Chinese poet and music producer He Taiji portrays Lan Xin as a figure of serenity and kindness whose quiet presence becomes transformative for others, reminding readers that gentleness itself can guide people through periods of unrest.

The collection also celebrates the sustaining power of culture and community during times of transition. Rahmonova Dildora highlights the importance of cultural immersion in her piece where a traveler encounters the gentle sincerity of the Uzbek people, suggesting that identity is strengthened through openness rather than isolation. Yayra Erkin qizi Bo‘riyeva advocates for physical exercise, public competitions, and healthier urban design, envisioning communities that evolve not only economically but physically and socially. Her work imagines progress as something lived collectively through public space, movement, and shared participation.

Transition is both disruptive and necessary, integral to human and non-human nature. Even as it unsettles institutions and identities, change can open new possibilities for connection, awareness, and renewal. These works remind us that people endure, adapt, and continue searching for meaning while the world around them transforms.

Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee

Protocol

The night is starry like heaven

A hibiscus flower upfront

The city is painted red

The crimson is tantalizing

My hands up on the mirror

It sends a signal off

To be in God’s arms with happiness

Pluralism over this city

Protest of feminists and prototype

My verge is on the Bloomsbury gate

The gaze is on the death

Of rebirthing  vocals of masquerade

Martyrdom of heavenly speech

They take your breaths away

Till you pass on the hellfire

To public transport and health issues

The protocol is current

It sends off the heavenly bodies.

Short story from Saparboyeva Laylo Hajiboy kizi

Belated happiness

Black fate knocked on the door twice in one day: When Bayna Momo buried her two livers, it seemed to her that not only the day but also the sun of her life had gone out. The courtyard was deserted, the tandoor had cooled down, and the table in front of the door lay silent as if it had lost its owner. Previously, this courtyard had been filled with the sound of a man’s footsteps and the laughter of his son.

Bayna Momo was now condemned to live in memories and flickering devotion. People came and went, comforted her, and then everyone dispersed with their own worries. But Grandma Bayna was left alone. Sometimes she would sit by the hearth, staring into the distance, waiting for someone from the past to return.


The horseman Zamon was still wandering around the village. There was no sign of remorse in his eyes. But the people were already thinking about him, and all the old women in the village were secretly cursing the horseman Zamon. Soon, Zamon’s business was not going well: all his horses died in one day, his business was not the same, and his reputation was ruined. People turned their backs on him. It was as if an invisible curse was following him.


One day, Bayna Momo went to the market. There, she saw a young man driving a cart. There was a look of calm mixed with sadness on the young man’s face.
“Thank you, son,” the grandmother said reluctantly.
“Your voice… Your sweet voice and words reminded me of my mother…” he said with tears in his eyes.


From that day on, the courtyard came alive again. Tea would boil on the stove, the smell of bread would come from the oven, and in the evenings, the quiet conversation of two people would be heard in the courtyard. Grandma Bayna straightened up, and the light returned to her eyes. Then she began to think about the future, not the past.
The wind was blowing again. But this time it was not a destructive one, but a warm breeze that swept through the yard.


Bayna Momo realized: a person’s life is a test. Some fall against the wind, while others rise after the wind. Her life had meaning again – the happiness of being a mother!

Saparboyeva Laylo Hajiboy kizi (born in 2010) is a student of the Ogahiy School of Creativity and a young creative writer. She began her creative career by writing poetry in elementary school. After a certain break, she returned to literature and is currently working mainly in prose. Her dedication work “You live in my heart” was published in the newspaper “Khiva Tongi”.

Laylo has also participated in several foreign platforms with her work, and her stories have been published on sites such as The Seoul Times and Synchronized Chaos. She actively participates in scientific and practical conferences, expressing her thoughts and views on literature and creative thinking. She also writes short stories and fan fiction, which she shares on online platforms.

Her works are mainly devoted to human emotions, inner experiences, and life observations. In the future, she aims to further develop her creative potential and become an internationally recognized writer.

Poetry from Polina Moys

Give Your Kids a Happy Childhood

Give your kids a happy childhood,

Plenty of quality time together,

Lovely memories, joyful moods  

That they’ll keep in their hearts forever.

Our love and care, support and kindness

Are so important to young, tender souls.

The fleeting life often reminds us

To focus on simple yet meaningful goals.

Bestow your kids with generous presents,

Invest in hobbies, gifts, and talents.

Happy children are worth your efforts.

You’ll surely see their eyes shine like diamonds.

Bless your children with a great education,

Be their teacher, coach, and guide.

Develop a genuine, tight-knit connection,

Make sure you’re always by their side.

Give your kids a happy childhood.

As happiness is a beautiful merit,  

It will create a happy adulthood.

This feeling your grand kids will later inherit.

A Beautiful Day

What a beautiful day

God has given us,

His gifts will forever stay,

Never will they pass!

A radiant sunrise

Awakens the heart,

A glorious sunset

God’s masterpiece of art!

The heavenly blue sky

Protects from evil and strife.

It brings us peace and joy,

God’s promise of eternal life!

Seas, oceans, mountains, rivers,

Each country, every nation,

Even a tiny speck of sand,

That’s His, our Lord’s creation!

Give thanks to God, my friend,

His blessings are always there.

And may the Holy Spirit

Keep us in His care!

My Gift to the World

What can I give to the world today?

A warm and radiant smile,

The love that grows day by day,

The light of my soul that shines a long while.

I’ll help my neighbor who is ill

To clean, and shop, and cook,

I’ll make her a delicious meal

And read her favorite book.

I’ll teach the children who are in need

To read, and draw, and write.

Their future will be guaranteed,

If given a proper start.

There are always things that should be done

And I could handle that:

I’ll feed the birds, play with a friend’s son,

Or even adopt a cat.

What can you give to the world today?

You’ve got plenty of gifts to share,

And if you do it, day by day

You’ll be immensely blessed by God’s care!

Poetry from Su Yun

孩子,站起来

从石头中爬出的孩童

世界似容不下你天真的动态

你手持花朵跳跃摇摆

炮灰狰狞着将你覆盖

你抚摸涂鸦转过窗台

利刃爆破出胁你胸怀

剥去你未成形的认知的爱

你可记得幼年埋下的藤蔓

你可幼想它预期的花开

你可知晓你的母亲也曾

日渐加深了等待

等待你的心被爱撑开

吐露你带给世界的色彩

炮灰将画鸦涂改

留下愁恨的灰白

弥漫着悲哀不可掩埋

你记住藤蔓在更深处连成一脉

继续结着你的爱

你站起来,试着寻索

明白敌人才是最不该的存在

你站起来,学着跨步

带给土地真正的色彩

Child, Stand Up

By Su Yun(China)

Translated by Cao Shui

A child crawling out of a stone

The world seems unable to accommodate your innocent movements

You are holding flowers, jumping and swaying

The cannon covers you with ferocity

You touch the graffiti and turn around the windowsill

Sharp blade blasting threatens your chest

Stripping away your unformed cognition of love

Do you remember the vines planted in your childhood

Do you imagine the expected blooming of flowers

Do you know that your mother also once

Gradually deepening the wait

Waiting for your heart to be opened by love

Share the colors you bring to the world

The cannon fodder will alter the crow painting

Leave behind the gray and white of sorrow and hatred

Filled with sadness that cannot be buried

Remember that the vines are connected deeper into one vein

Continue to hold onto your love

You stand up and try to search for it

Understand that the enemy is the most unworthy existence

You stand up and learn to take steps

Bring true color to the land              

Su Yun, 17 years old, is a member of the Chinese Poetry Society and a young poet. His works have been published in more than ten countries. He has published two poetry collections in China, namely Inspiration from All Things and Wisdom and Philosophy, and one in India titled WITH ECSTASY OF MUSINGS IN TRANQUILITY. He has won the Guido Gozzano Orchard Award in Italy, the Special Award for Foreign Writers in the City of Pomezia, and was praised by the organizing committee as the “Craftsman of Chinese Lyric Poetry”. He has also received the “Cuttlefish Bone” Best International Writer Award for those under 25.

Essay from Hua Ai

Screenshot

Quintessenceway: Before the World Awakens, the Heart Must 

(A essay I wrote for my spiritual friend Carmen’s service, yes — but one rooted in bodily transformation, artistic revelation, and the hard honesty of seeing oneself clearly. 

Website: https://quintessenceway.com) 

The world has changed. 

Or perhaps it has only revealed itself. 

There was a day when I came to my mentor with my manuscript, carrying it like something alive, something I had been nursing in the dark. He read it, sighed, and told me my writing was a mess. 

Not a novel, he seemed to mean. Too dense. Too essayistic. Too buried beneath itself. 

At first, I could not understand him. My book was never meant to be an essay. It was a living world. Everything was already there: the sadness of a man, the rebellion of a woman, the children no longer naïve, the animals returning during lockdown, nature regrowing while the human world retreated indoors. 

The core was there. 

So why had it not surfaced? 

Why was the wholeness hidden beneath so many layers? Why did the novel feel like an essay when what I had written was, in truth, a cry? 

Something was blocking me. 

I wanted to reclaim my authorship, but I did not yet know how. I could feel the book breathing beneath the prose, but I could not clear enough space for it to speak. 

This is where Carmen’s Quintessenceway entered my life — not as a slogan, not as a shallow self-help phrase, but as a mirror. 

Through her service, a person offers their name, date of birth, and email address, and receives in return a quintessence message tailored to them: a message rooted in the architecture of feeling, thought, action, and connection. It is a way of seeing the self not as a fixed object, but as a living pattern. A movement. A balance. A truth waiting to be recognised. 

Then, under the guidance of my friend Carmen, the architecture of quintessence began to take form. 

Feelings. 

Thoughts. 

Actions. 

Connections. 

Four elements. Four movements. Four gates. 

When they fall out of balance, the self fractures. When they return to harmony, wholeness returns too. 

And is this not what has happened to our world? 

What else is the present crisis, if not the consequence of a great imbalance? 

Feelings have been left undealt with for too long. Men, unable to face their fear, grief, and loss of power, turn toward the manosphere, toward fantasies of dominance, toward the worship of strongman politicians. Day after day, the politicians become giant babies, and the people follow them into infancy. 

Thought has been misdirected. It is constantly steered away from the true core of life, from the force that holds everyone together: love, humanity, tenderness, language. Bloggers speak of optimisation. Teachers are pushed to prioritise maths and technology over the first miracle in a child’s eyes when they discover a snail on a spring leaf. The first knife thrust by education departments is often aimed at the humanities, at language, at the very arts that protect us from being eaten alive. 

Actions drift too far from kindness. Too many are left unexplained, unexamined, detached from empathy at the core. The cold eyes of vegan yogis toward colleagues who refuse to give up meat. Educated blue-collar young men who carry essentialist ideas about gender, only to be laughed at until they turn toward Jordan Peterson or Charlie Kirk. A once pro-feminist Black Christian girl, the tenth child in her family, speaks of the pressure of childbearing, of “deep” philosophies she does not understand, and is sneered at by her white teacher. The cry she never speaks aloud hardens. In the end, she turns toward Christian fundamentalism. 

Again and again, one side looks at the other as if they are beneath them. 

Each contempt creates a counterforce. Each sneer pushes away someone who might have become an ally. Each unexamined wound becomes a doctrine. Each private insecurity dresses itself in religion, politics, purity, intellect, or moral superiority, until one branch begins to hate another. 

And now we have arrived at a stage where the the light given the Morning Star, the fire stolen by Prometheus — threatens to leave the world. 

Once connection is lost, we stand at the apex of civilisation and at the bottom of the animal order. The fire is still here, yes. But without love, without thought, without feeling, without connection, it turns into pure evil’s communion wine. 

What can we do, then? 

What can we do? 

This has been a long rhetorical question for me as a writer. There was a time when I asked it and found no answer. 

In my own book, during the first draft, when my mentor sighed and said it was “too essayistic,” I could not understand him. I thought: But it is not an essay. It was never meant to be an essay. 

Only later, after I received the wisdom scrolls, each one distilled from theosophical canons, did I begin to see the cracks between the lines. 

The big names I tried so hard to place in a chapter? That was my unchecked ego, the ego of someone who had graduated from a Russell Group university and still feared being dismissed. 

The over-the-top intensity? That was the ghost of an ugly duckling — the girl bullied for eighteen years in China — still haunting my mind. 

The five metaphors in a row that made my prose unbearably purple? That was my fear of being seen as empty inside, of being thought intellectually lesser. 

The layers began to fall as the onion unfurled. 

Had I not come to understand quintessence — that pulsing dot, invisible as air, fluctuating as water, warm as fire, and virile as earth; the power that keeps the inner universe breathing — I would never have heard my characters’ voices so clearly. 

Once the masks fell, they began to speak. 

The man whispered years of victimhood inside a coercive marriage, and years of being made a mule beneath an imperial machine. 

The Cossacks were no longer cultural mascots or horse-riders in costume. They became people as simple and alive as someone screaming back at a neighbour’s horse because the horse screamed first — just as an American teenager might meow back at a cat because the cat meowed at them. 

And the woman became whole. Brilliant and cruel. Feral and fine. Dirty and decent. Yet through all her virtues and vices, compassion and kindness remained the driving force. 

Then came a sudden click in my head, a return to Rumi’s insight: 

“Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.” 

In the name of changing the world, the world has been tipped toward the edge of falling apart. 

What have we failed to manage, even for a second? 

In pursuing what looks exhilarating, rewarding, illuminating, we overlook the shadow part: the darkness before light is born. 

This morning, even my neighbour said that, for spirits, this might be the worst time since the Second World War. 

I switched off my iPad. I had just finished the day’s writing. I mulled over his sentence with a smile. 

What we see in this reality may indeed be the nadir. 

But as long as we are breathing, as long as someone is still able to say such a line, light is still here. 

It is just an inch beyond what we can see. 

It is waiting at the height where possibility and regrowth begin. 

As the thought completed itself, I heard my characters singing at the back of my head. And I knew then that this was a revelation worth sharing: the knowledge of quintessence, the link to Quintessenceway, the place where each person can offer their name, date of birth, and email address, and receive in return a quintessence message tailored by my friend Carmen — and the understanding that the world does not awaken through domination. 

It awakens through the heart. 

Once the heart is awake, the world will be awake. 

And whoever holds their hands over us through fear, hatred, or domination will become as weak as smoke. 

Below is a taste of wisdom, and a pledge to the journey of light’s return. 

Rumi 

“Yesterday I was smart and wanted to change the world. Today I am wise — and I change myself.” 

Augustine of Hippo 

“Pride is the beginning of all sin.” 

Confucius 

“A wise man looks for his own faults; a foolish man looks for them in others.” 

Socrates 

“He who thinks he knows enough already knows nothing.” 

The Path of Quintessence 

Before you can change the world, you must see who you truly are. 

The Mirror of Truth is the first law of transformation. 

Pride is a distorted mirror. 

Complacency is a silent poison. 

The Path of Quintessence is movement, and anyone who stops moving loses the light. 

By despising others, you despise a part of the truth within yourself. 

Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee

Soul

My mind is dawning upon your words

I seek for gems and rubies around the world,

the mystic lives on across the soiled shore

The hydrangeas are beckoning me

Full of fragrance sweet across continents

The blue eyes of your soul marks my heart

It is a whirlwind of romance for your name

You gave me thousand indigo winters

Now I live among them

Blues are my guitar and strings

you play the victim of circumstances

Each morning I pray upon God’s soul

My forever escape into your fantasy realm

I read reality with kindness

The heavy fall rain of June summons me

I am with my child, a mere sunset

I write this verse with my dignity.