Calming Storms

Dock your ship 

On my furious shores 

Let not the waves steer you off 

To play-safe distances 

Choose my madness 

Cradle my chaos 

For when I am silent, unobtrusive

Calm –

My peace will leave you wanting. 


The Pursuit of Evasive Things

The Pursuit of Evasive Things

Sometimes you have to wonder how
we can want the things we want
in the unapologetic way that we do.

A violent stirring
in the depths of our being;
our insides reeling
with an insatiable restlessness.
A wanting that quickly rises
to the surface of our skins;
Piercing and determined to make itself known.

But it’s almost as if they heard us-
Feet heavy and eager
An audible lunge towards our prey

Their eyes widen;
Startled by our hunger,
they hastily take flight.

And again, leaving us wanting.

Even if they are evasive as ever.

But what is life’s purpose if not to chase after our passions?
What are the steps we take for if not to bring us closer

And farther

And closer

Until suddenly.

The dust settles.
The planets align.
The time is right.

And what was once evasive
Perpetually keeping their distance
Beyond arm’s reach
Is finally nestled calmly and perfectly
in the palm of our hands.

Beautiful Fragments


Is it possible to get high on poetry? Because Lang Leav just took me on a whole other level with her craft. She is brilliant. Wait no, I believe no word can truly understand what I mean. As cliche as that may have sounded. It is way beyond that.

Unnerving. Evocative. That’s what critics describe her. But with me, no adjective comes to mind.

When I read Lang Leav’s works, instead of adjectives, I think about moments. The transcient kinds. The beautifully fleeting ones like a butterfly gently resting on the curve of your knuckle before it is startled by your reflexes. The ones that make your eyes wide with wonder, your jaw hanging with unadulterated amusement. That split instant before the sun turns over its luminating duties to the moon. It’s the kind that makes you stop what you’re doing, discard all the clutter in your mind and bask in the memory and the nostalgia that her words lure you into.

I adore you, Lang. In all the languages humanly possible.