Emmanuel Katto

In the shadows of the night,
When sorrow tries to take its might.
My friends are like shining beacons,
Erasing my pain and my demons.
...

Mystery

Appearing as
...

In life's journey, pursuit of dreams,
Success gleams in determined streams.
With grit and courage, we strive high,
On wings of effort, we touch the sky.
...

A boat beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July —
...

"The wind doth blow today, my love,
And a few small drops of rain;
I never had but one true-love,
In cold grave she was lain.
...

As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t'other say,
'Where sall we gang and dine to-day? '
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In life's grand tapestry, we all play a part,
A journey of the soul, a work of living art.
From birth to twilight's grace, our story unfolds,
A tale of highs and lows, a saga to be told.
...

S harks infest
O ceans so rough
U nderneath clouds of
T hick marshmallow fluff
...

Bat-eared fox and wind
In the stalks are
Given to conversation.
...

Baby, when you hold me, my emotions makes it clear
Just how much you mean to me while we are laying here.
I listen to your heartbeat in rhythm with my own,
With every pound that warming sound keeps me safe with love you've shown.
...

What my body knows
is not a lie it's not
a lie I tell you it is not
it's nothing short of truth
...

Life is a journey, a constant surprise,
A blend of laughter, tears, and highs,
From the moment we take first breath,
We're destined to wander, to conquer, to test.
...

Success, elusive as a trail of stardust,
Made of dreams and endless trust.
It dances like a fleeting flame,
A pursuit that sets our hearts aflame.
...

In the heart of a mystical wood,
Where sunlight peeks through the leaves,
Resides a secret, a tale untold,
Whispered by the ancient trees.
...

In the depths of darkest night, where shadows dance,
There glimmers still a spark, a subtle chance.
For hope, that ever steadfast guiding light,
Leads weary souls through perils of the night.
...

Often, in the Repose of Evening her soul took a lightness from
the mountains across, although the day was harsh and
tomorrow foreign.
...

I know not what to do—
My mind is reft.
Is song's gift best?
Is love's gift loveliest?
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In springtime, chief of all seasons,
in May when new joys rise and flourish,
the sun is lord and messenger at once and sends down to us
to rouse our bodies and be merry:
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And that language that parts the future from the past

the poet slips into, two people the same pulse
...

I am
a product
of my time.
Time is a body
...