๐”‰๐”ฆ๐”ฏ๐”ข ๐”ฑ๐”ฌ ๐”–๐”ข๐”ข ๐”—๐”ฅ๐”ž๐”ฑ ๐”—๐”ฅ๐”ฆ๐”ฐ ๐”ฆ๐”ฐ ๐”๐”ฒ๐”ฐ๐”ฑ ๐”๐”ถ ๐”๐”ฆ๐”ฃ๐”ข

Keyara S Trotman

๐”ˆ๐”ณ๐”ข๐”ฏ๐”ถ๐”ฑ๐”ฆ๐”ช๐”ข ℑ ๐”ฑ๐”ถ๐”ญ๐”ข ๐”ฌ๐”ฒ๐”ฑ, ๐”ด๐”ฌ๐”ฏ๐”ก๐”ฐ, ๐”ฉ๐”ข๐”ฑ๐”ฑ๐”ข๐”ฏ ๐”Ÿ๐”ถ ๐”ฉ๐”ข๐”ฑ๐”ฑ๐”ข๐”ฏ, ๐”ด๐”ฅ๐”ž๐”ฑ ๐”ฆ๐”ฐ ๐”ฑ๐”ฅ๐”ข๐”ฏ๐”ข ๐”ฑ๐”ฌ ๐”ฉ๐”ข๐”ฑ ๐”ค๐”ฌ. ℑ ๐”ฃ๐”ข๐”ข๐”ฉ ๐”ฃ๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”ข ๐”ถ๐”ข๐”ฑ ๐”ฑ๐”ฅ๐”ฆ๐”ฐ ๐”ฆ๐”ฐ๐”ซ'๐”ฑ ๐”ด๐”ฅ๐”ž๐”ฑ ℑ ๐”ข๐”ต๐”ญ๐”ข๐” ๐”ฑ๐”ข๐”ก. ๐”๐”ฌ๐”ณ๐”ข ๐”ซ๐”ข๐”ณ๐”ข๐”ฏ ๐”ฃ๐”ž๐”ฉ๐”ฑ๐”ข๐”ฏ๐”ฐ, ๐”ฉ๐”ฌ๐”ณ๐”ข ๐”ก๐”ฌ๐”ข๐”ฐ๐”ซ'๐”ฑ ๐”ฅ๐”ฒ๐”ฏ๐”ฑ ๐”ซ๐”ฌ๐”ฏ ๐”ก๐”ฌ๐”ข๐”ฐ ๐”ฆ๐”ฑ ๐”Ÿ๐”ฏ๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”ค ๐”ญ๐”ž๐”ฆ๐”ซ. ℑ ๐”ฐ๐”ญ๐”ถ ๐”ฐ๐”ฌ๐”ช๐”ข๐”ฑ๐”ฅ๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”ค ๐”ฐ๐”ฌ ๐”Ÿ๐”ข๐”ž๐”ฒ๐”ฑ๐”ฆ๐”ฃ๐”ฒ๐”ฉ ๐”ž๐”ซ๐”ก ℑ ๐”ฌ๐”ซ๐” ๐”ข ๐”ฑ๐”ฏ๐”ฒ๐”ฉ๐”ถ ๐”ข๐”ต๐”ญ๐”ข๐”ฏ๐”ฆ๐”ข๐”ซ๐” ๐”ข๐”ก ๐”ฐ๐”ฌ๐”ช๐”ข๐”ฑ๐”ฅ๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”ค ๐”ฐ๐”ฌ ๐”Ÿ๐”ข๐”ž๐”ฒ๐”ฑ๐”ฆ๐”ฃ๐”ฒ๐”ฉ ๐”ฒ๐”ซ๐”ฐ๐”ญ๐”ฌ๐”จ๐”ข๐”ซ ๐”ด๐”ฌ๐”ฏ๐”ก๐”ฐ. ๐”—๐”ฅ๐”ฆ๐”ฐ ๐”ฆ๐”ฐ, ๐”ฑ๐”ฅ๐”ฆ๐”ฐ ๐”ฆ๐”ฐ ๐”ž๐”ช๐”ž๐”ท๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”ค. ๐”๐”ฆ๐”ฃ๐”ข ๐”ฆ๐”ฐ ๐”ฃ๐”ฒ๐”ฉ๐”ฉ ๐”ฌ๐”ฃ ๐”ฒ๐”ซ๐”ข๐”ต๐”ญ๐”ข๐” ๐”ฑ๐”ข๐”ก ๐”ฒ๐”ซ๐”ฑ๐”ฆ๐”ฉ ๐”ฆ๐”ฑ๐”ฐ ๐”ž ๐”ซ๐”ฌ๐”ฏ๐”ช ๐”ฑ๐”ฌ ๐”ฐ๐”ž๐”ถ ๐”ž๐”ซ๐”ก ๐”ก๐”ฌ ๐”ฐ๐”ฌ๐”ช๐”ข๐”ฑ๐”ฅ๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”ค. 

๐’ฉโ„ฏโ„ฏ๐’น๐“โ„ฏ๐“ˆ๐“ˆ ๐“‰โ„ด ๐“ˆ๐’ถ๐“Ž... ๐’ฎ๐’พ๐“โ„ฏ๐“ƒ๐’ธโ„ฏ ๐’พ๐“ˆ ๐’นโ„ฏ๐’ถ๐’น๐“๐“Ž, ๐“‡โ„ฏ๐“‚๐’พ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐“‚โ„ฏ โ„ด๐’ป ๐’ฝโ„ด๐“Œ โ„ ๐“‚โ„ฏ๐“‰ ๐’ฝโ„ฏ๐“‡ โ„Š๐’ถ๐“โ„ฏ. โ„ ๐“Œ๐“‡โ„ด๐“‰โ„ฏ ๐“ˆ๐“Š๐’ธ๐’ฝ ๐’ทโ„ฏ๐’ปโ„ด๐“‡โ„ฏ โ„ด๐“ƒ๐’ธโ„ฏ ๐“‚โ„ด๐“‡โ„ฏ, ๐’พ โ„ฏ๐“‹โ„ฏ๐“ƒ ๐“…๐“‡๐’พ๐“‹๐’ถ๐“‰โ„ฏ๐“๐“Ž ๐’ธโ„ด๐“‹โ„ฏ๐“‡โ„ฏ๐’น "๐’ฎโ„ฏ๐“" ๐’ถ๐“ƒโ„ด๐“‰๐’ฝโ„ฏ๐“‡ ๐“Œ๐“‡๐’พ๐“‰๐“‰โ„ฏ๐“ƒ ๐“…๐’พโ„ฏ๐’ธโ„ฏ ๐’ท๐“Ž ๐“‚โ„ฏโค๏ธ‍๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿฅ‚.

Inscribing thoughts on paper, pen in hand,

Words flowing freely, as if on demand.

Each line a reflection of my inner light,

As I've written before, as I write.

๐’œ๐“ˆ โ„ ๐’ฝ๐’ถ๐“‹โ„ฏ ๐“Œ๐“‡๐’พ๐“‰๐“‰โ„ฏ๐“ƒ, ๐’ถ๐“ˆ ๐’พ๐“‰๐“ˆ ๐“Œ๐“‡๐’พ๐“‰๐“‰โ„ฏ๐“ƒ.

๐’ณ๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“๐“

เธ…^•๏ปŒ•^เธ…( o โŠฐ o)♥

๐’ฎ๐’พโ„Š๐“ƒโ„ฏ๐’น~ ๐’ซ๐“Ž๐“‰ ๐’ฆ๐’พฬจ๐“€๐’พฬจ

๐Ÿฅ€๐Ÿคญ

 

โ„ โ„ณ.โ„.๐’ฎ.๐’ฎ. ๐’ดโ„ด๐“Š ๐“‚๐“Ž ๐“โ„ด๐“‹โ„ฏ๐Ÿ’›๐Ÿชฝ’๐“ˆ

 

  • Author: Keyara S Trotman (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 25th, 2025 10:42
  • Comment from author about the poem: Let me know what other category yall would place this here written piece. Whether itโ€™s spiritual, and or religious let me know down below. Much appreciated and thanks ๐Ÿ’ฏโค๏ธ๐Ÿฅ‚
  • Category: Spiritual
  • Views: 5
  • Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments +

Comments2

  • sorenbarrett

    here I hear a poem of demur, caution, fear of discovery and the hiding of a word. Time brings self assurance. Well written

    • Keyara S Trotman

      Dearest Soren much appreciation to you for taking the time and effort needless to say for writing out something so insightful. Very detailed and for that I thank you ๐Ÿฅ‚๐Ÿ’ฏโค๏ธ

      • sorenbarrett

        You are most welcome Keyara

      • Tristan Robert Lange

        Dearest Kiki, this moves like an opened windowโ€ฆ soft, honest, a little raw, full of those truths you only whisper. You let the feeling lead the form and it works beautifully. Wonderful job, my friend. ๐ŸŒน๐Ÿ–ค๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ•ฏ๏ธ๐Ÿฆโ€โฌ›

        • Keyara S Trotman

          Dearest Tristan much much appreciated, truly thank you my dear, as always โค๏ธ

          • Tristan Robert Lange

            You are most welcome, Kiki! Happy Thanksgiving to you, my friend!

            • Keyara S Trotman

              Dearest Tristan, Happy Thanksgiving to you as well, may you have a wonderful day full of happiness ๐Ÿฅ‚โค๏ธ

              • Tristan Robert Lange

                ๐Ÿฅฐ



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