Inner Horizon is not just a book of poems. It's a quiet walk inward, guided by someone who has stood still in both joy and sorrow. These pages are shaped by real moments, some soft, some sharp, but all leading toward a kind of stillness we often forget is there.
William doesn't try to impress. He speaks plainly when needed, and when the heart needs music, the words carry it. What he shares is not about escape or answers. It's about noticing what holds, even when everything else shifts. A steady breath. A memory that refuses to fade. A moment of love that asks for nothing in return.
This collection is full of pauses, the kind that remind you to slow down. To sit. To look inward without rushing to change anything. There's pain in these poems, yes, but also something deeper: the choice to stay open, to keep loving, to keep walking, even when the way home isn't clear.
You'll read about letting go, not as defeat, but as making space. About grief that didn't crush, but shaped. About love that asked you to soften, and time that asked you to wait. These aren't lessons in the usual sense. They're more like conversations with someone who's lived enough to know when to speak and when to stay silent.
The poems return, again and again, to a few simple themes. Not because the writer runs out of ideas, but because some truths grow each time you turn to them. Like the horizon itself, it doesn't move, but it changes with the light.
At its core, Inner Horizon is a quiet offering. A moment of peace between two people, writer and reader, who may never meet, but know the same feeling. The hope is not to impress you, but to remind you: you've already come a long way. The centre you seek isn't lost. It's waiting, still and steady, inside you.
Related Subjects
Poetry