Jordan A. Leturgez

In the dim-lit glow of the stage, he stands, 
A figure cloaked in dreams and shifting sands, 
With eyes like windows, deep and wide, 
He wears a thousand lives, each one a guide.

His heart beats to the rhythm of applause, 
A symphony of souls, a silent cause, 
In every line, a story waits to bloom, 
In every gesture, shadows dance and loom.

He slips into the skin of kings and thieves, 
In laughter's echo or the sorrow that cleaves, 
With every role, he sheds his own disguise, 
A chameleon of truth beneath the lies.

Yet when the curtain falls and lights grow dim, 
He walks alone, the laughter turning grim, 
For in the mirror's gaze, he sees the cost-- 
The self he plays at times feels almost lost.

Behind the mask of joy or bitter strife, 
Lies a tender heart that yearns for life, 
To feel the warmth of love, to touch the ground, 
To find a voice that's real, a sound profound.

He dances on the edge of joy and pain, 
A jester's crown, a lover's sweet refrain, 
In every tear that glistens on his cheek, 
A testament to dreams he dares to seek.

So here's to the actor, bold and brave, 
Who walks through shadows, yet still dares to save, 
A piece of truth in every tale he weaves, 
For in his art, the world finds what it needs.

In the quiet dawn, beneath the breaking light,
Lies a fire that burns beyond mere sight.
Not just the talent that time may hone,
But a will that carves its path alone.

Skill may build the bridge, the steady hand,
But will ignites the daring to stand.
It whispers courage in the face of fear,
A voice unwavering, always near.

For skills can falter, fade, or bend,
But will persists, a steadfast friend.
It drives the heart through storm and still,
A force that bends the strongest will.

So when the world demands more than what we know,
It's will that helps us rise and grow.
Beyond the skill, beyond the thrill,
It's the unyielding, burning will.

In a world where silence speaks the loudest,
Where moments flit and fade like fleeting shadows,
We interrupt this program, dear hearts, to pause--
A gentle call to notice, to ponder, to cause.

The hum of routine, a relentless parade,
Daydreams and deadlines, in twilight they wade,
But halt! Let the air be filled with still delight--
For beauty blooms softly in the depth of night.

We interrupt this program to savor the day,
To grasp at the whispers where soft wishes play,
Look closely, dear wanderers, at the petals' embrace--
In the mundane's allure, we find magical space.

Snapshots of laughter unfurl in the light--
The way shadows dance when day kisses night,
Here lies our story, a tapestry spun,
Each thread woven tenderly--hearts beating as one.

A pause for the weary, the lost and the brave,
To breathe in the silence, to cradle the wave--
For life is the canvas, a palette of grace,
We interrupt this program to find our true place.

So rise, gentle spirits, to write your own script,
In the theater of moments, let not your heart slip,
Together we gather, our voices entwine--
In this brief interruption, let your light brightly shine.

In the shadows of a world undone,
Where the moon hangs low, a forgotten sun,
Z Nation wanders, a haunting call,
Echoes of humanity in its twilight thrall.

Once vibrant streets, now silent and bare,
A dance of the undead, a macabre affair,
Yet in the chaos, flickers of light,
Brave souls arise, igniting the night.

Through the rubble of dreams, they find their way,
With laughter and heartbreak, they seize each day.
Amongst the ashes of hope's weary sigh,
A bond forms stronger than the force that would pry.

Zombies amble, a grotesque parade,
But beneath the horror, real heroes are made.
Their spirits entwined, they fight and they strive,
In a nation of shadows, together they thrive.

For every lost heart, a tale to unfold,
Of courage and love in a world grown cold.
In the heart of the chaos, where fear dares to tread,
Hope lays a path, where only the brave dare to tread.

So raise up your voices, let your stories be known,
In the land of the fallen, the seeds of life sown.
In Z Nation's embrace, where the night seems to last,
Together we rise, defiant from the past.

In a room where time seems to pause,
Soft whispers linger, while moments cause
Hearts to dance with hesitant hope,
Beneath the weight of the world's scope.

Walls painted in soothing, muted hues,
Holding secrets in their silent views,
Where shadows play and light gently spills,
Upon dreams cradled in fragile wills.

The ticking clock, a solemn friend,
Marks the cadence of breaths that blend,
With thoughts of healing, of fears laid bare,
In chairs familiar, hearts yearn and share.

Each glance exchanged, a story unfolds,
"Tales of courage in the face of cold."
The worn-out magazines lie untouched,
Yet the spirit of warmth cannot be clutched.

There's solace found in the ailing sighs,
And hope reflected in tear-streaked eyes,
While the hum of machines, a lullaby sweet,
Sows comfort in the weary heart's beat.

In the quiet chamber of waiting, we stand,
With fragile strands of both love and demand,
A tapestry woven of heart, soul, and grace,
In this sacred space where we each take our place.

For here, in the stillness, the world seems to bend,
Uniting our spirits, a common thread to mend,
A compassion that flows like a river's embrace,
In the poetry of life, we find our true space.