Anu's Quill

The Seed of a Poem The Spark On July 21st, 2025. I had an inspiration and wrote a poem about The White Dwarf — My first blog post. I shared on X—formerly Twitter— and the second and third stanzas stirred something in the heart of Nathaniel —a mutual who radiates with brilliancy in writing. This piece of his was born. They say hope is a demon. I say yes, it's my demon  I say it’s the only one that stays. My angels—expectations— choke me with their halos. But my demon? My demon HOPE holds me. Always. —Nathaniel 👾💜 My Resonance Reading his piece, the muses sang— my heart stirred, my mind attuned. Hope, my demon—our demon was born. Hope, my demon — our demon. The desire that anchors when expectation looks bleak. Hope, my demon — our demon. A light at the end of the tunnel. Dream, a greater demon — one that entangles the heart, a vision of the end... Hope, my demon — our demon. Present when all others left. — Anu's Quill 🪶✨️🖤 The Duet Continues Nathaniel responded with this ev...

 The White Dwarf A once-blazing titanic star Now dead — Shrunken. Dimmer. A shadow of what was once. Heat waning, Only time remains — long, but not eternal. Light will be lost forever. Hope — An inner demon that never relents. Re-ignition is slim, but not impossible — Yet to what end? A breath, a flare — Only to return to death. Such hope seems pointless, Yet men will die for it. A second chance, even if brief. Are stars conscious? No one knows. Perhaps a White Dwarf hopes amidst its woes. Age is inevitable. Time — a silent executioner. Death: the fate of all existence.

This is a quiet space. A space to breathe, to ponder, to whisper thoughts onto the page. A place for poetry, fleeting reflections, wandering stories, and slow-burning dreams. Here, you’ll find: Poems written in silence but meant to be heard. Short stories — someday, maybe strange, maybe soft, maybe sharp Thoughts and personal musings shaped like journal entries Fragments of my journey through tech, books, and creative work And maybe — sometimes — what a book left behind after I closed it. I don’t promise polish. I don’t promise perfection. But I do promise honesty — line by line. So whether you’re here for a verse, a tale, or a thought, I hope you stay a while. — by Anu’s Quill ✍️