The Altar

You’ve found your way to the quiet fire.

This is not a gallery of perfect poems.
This is a sanctuary for the unfinished.

A place where words come undone and stitch themselves back together.
A diary carved from ash and whisper.

Here, I lay down what haunts me—
poems, fragments, journal entries, thoughts not yet ready to bloom.

You are not required to understand.
You are only asked to feel.

Step gently. Stay awhile.
The altar is open.