20 Billy Coins
@ruon93.bsky.social
Once, the stars were our storytellers,
the rivers sang lullabies to the moon.
Now, the sky hums with silent satellites,
and the wind carries whispers of a world ,,
both closer and farther than before.
the rivers sang lullabies to the moon.
Now, the sky hums with silent satellites,
and the wind carries whispers of a world ,,
both closer and farther than before.
Silence is the universe exhaling; we hear most clearly when we are listening to the space between its breaths.
December 30, 2025 at 7:18 AM
Silence is the universe exhaling; we hear most clearly when we are listening to the space between its breaths.
He wrote, not knowing his most careful reader was the one who feared the story most.
December 29, 2025 at 5:56 AM
He wrote, not knowing his most careful reader was the one who feared the story most.
The echo arrived before the shout.
December 28, 2025 at 8:33 AM
The echo arrived before the shout.
The true mystery of a city is not a single crime, but the million private dramas unfolding behind every lit window—a silent, simultaneous opera of love, grief, and hope, forever unseen by the street below.
August 28, 2025 at 10:57 AM
The true mystery of a city is not a single crime, but the million private dramas unfolding behind every lit window—a silent, simultaneous opera of love, grief, and hope, forever unseen by the street below.
He piloted his yellow capsule through the city's veins, a silent witness to a thousand conversations that began and ended in his rearview mirror.
August 28, 2025 at 10:51 AM
He piloted his yellow capsule through the city's veins, a silent witness to a thousand conversations that began and ended in his rearview mirror.
You are not lost—you are in motion. Even the stars burn through the darkness to find where they belong.
August 11, 2025 at 4:20 AM
You are not lost—you are in motion. Even the stars burn through the darkness to find where they belong.
The Last Question
Smoke curled between them on the midnight train.
*"What if,"* he whispered, *"we’re not the ones choosing the tracks?"
Smoke curled between them on the midnight train.
*"What if,"* he whispered, *"we’re not the ones choosing the tracks?"
August 11, 2025 at 4:12 AM
The Last Question
Smoke curled between them on the midnight train.
*"What if,"* he whispered, *"we’re not the ones choosing the tracks?"
Smoke curled between them on the midnight train.
*"What if,"* he whispered, *"we’re not the ones choosing the tracks?"
If our imaginations are the seeds of change, what kind of seeds are we planting? Are we nurturing dreams of a more sustainable, equitable, and compassionate world? Or are we allowing fear and negativity to take root?
February 17, 2025 at 12:20 PM
If our imaginations are the seeds of change, what kind of seeds are we planting? Are we nurturing dreams of a more sustainable, equitable, and compassionate world? Or are we allowing fear and negativity to take root?