🌹 Someone once asked me:“What do you get out of writing poetry, quotes, and fundraising for charities?”The truth? I don’t get much in the material sense.But I gain something far greater:
✨ The joy of turning words into hope.
✨ The chance to give voice to those who feel unseen.
✨ The opportunity to let art serve a purpose bigger than myself.That’s why I wrote If Rose Could Talk—a poem reminding working professionals to pause, breathe, and remember their worth.
For me, poetry is not just about beauty, it’s about impact.I don’t just write for myself—I write so words can bloom into kindness. 🌹
Also available for digital download in png/pdf formats on Trademe that is New Zealand’s largest online Marketplace. Alternative you can subscribe to my YouTube channel or here to get your free copy or for any amount you wish to pay, a part of which will go to local charities. Thank you for your time and appreciation, please like,share,comment and subscribe.
What change, big or small, would you like your blog to make in the world?
If I could ask for one change—just one—from the words I share here, it would be this:
That we remember how deeply we need each other.
Not just in moments of crisis, not just when headlines remind us of suffering, but in the quiet, everyday spaces of life. The way a kind word softens someone’s day. The way shared stories remind us we’re not alone. The way a simple act of giving—whether food, time, or listening—can be a turning point in another person’s life.
My blog isn’t just about ideas, it’s about connection. It’s about building a place—however small—where we remember that compassion isn’t weakness, it’s strength. That empathy isn’t a luxury, but a foundation. That when we choose to lift one another, even in the smallest of ways, we are building something far greater than ourselves.
I want this space to be a quiet rebellion against indifference.
A reminder that even when the world seems hardened, you still have the power to soften it—through your words, your presence, your care.
What if we stopped seeing people as strangers… and started seeing them as stories waiting to be heard? What if we treated kindness not as a random act, but a conscious practice?
That is the change I hope this blog brings.
To inspire a deeper commitment to helping one another, to showing up with honesty, and to creating community where no one feels invisible
Because the truth is: The world doesn’t change because of grand gestures. It changes because we choose, again and again, to care.
So let this blog be a place where care lives. Where trust is nurtured. Where hope is kept alive not through perfection, but through the simple, sacred act of showing up—for one another.
This is Zoeb Ali – Zee, wishing you all the good luck in whatever positive, small or big you are doing in your life to improve life of your loved ones, unknown individuals and families struggling and needing your love ❤ and help and yourself. Keep reading my posts and comment,like and share so I know if my words make any difference to you. Thank you for reading my posts.
There’s a certain pull that comes with the idea of “home.” It’s not just a place—it’s a collection of moments, memories, and emotions, woven together like a patchwork quilt. For me, that place is my hometown in India, where narrow streets hum with life, the aroma of freshly cooked spices lingers in the air, and laughter bounces off the walls of small, vibrant homes.
I left all of it behind, chasing opportunities in a distant, developed land. The choice felt right then, practical even. But as the years passed, I realized that while I gained material comforts, I left a part of my soul behind. My hometown—the soil, the people, the essence—called to me, but I was too distracted to listen.
Writing The Forgotten Garden brought back waves of nostalgia and reflection. It reminded me of a garden that once thrived in my childhood—a garden I abandoned along with my roots. Revisiting that garden in my mind stirred something profound: a longing to reconnect, to revive not just the garden but the parts of myself it represents.
This continuation is about that call, the journey back to one’s origins, and the healing that awaits when we answer.
The winds of time carried me far, Across oceans wide, beneath foreign stars. I built my dreams on distant lands, With golden towers and weary hands.
But somewhere deep, a whisper grew, A voice I knew, yet scarcely knew. It called me back, both soft and strong, A melody I’d lost too long.
The streets I walked in childhood days, Now shadowed paths in memory’s haze. The laughter, the cries, the scents that stayed, Their echoes formed a fleeting parade.
The garden waits, a patient friend, Its story unfinished, far from its end. The flowers wilted, the fruitless trees, Yet hope lingers in the breeze.
I pack my bags, not just with clothes, But with fragments of dreams, with humble oaths. To tend the soil that shaped my name, And light once more that tender flame.
Each step I take feels bittersweet, As past and present gently meet. The forgotten blooms will rise anew, In colors bright, in morning’s dew.
For home is not just bricks and stone, But the seed of love we’ve always known. It waits, it whispers, it longs to see, The part of itself that lives in me.
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I can not explain in words how much I value your support. This will help me support my hobbies and charities that I want to support.
I am currently going through extreme financial, emotional an physical hardship. I have been very inconsistent with writing posts. I have my hernia surgery on 31st July mid day New Zealand time.
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After a long journey of hardships, silent struggles, and spiritual awakenings, I found myself standing at the intersection of the seen and unseen. It was there—in the quiet moments of the night—that dreams began to speak to me. Each dream felt like a coded message, a gentle nudge from the inner self.
The boundaries between the subconscious and conscious blurred, urging me to document not just what I saw, but what I felt. That was the birth of this handwritten piece: “Journal of Dreams, Interpretation and Spirituality.”🧠 It is not about right or wrong interpretations, but a raw, unfiltered dive into how dreams can reflect real-life situations.📖 It is not a research paper. It’s a reflection. An offering. A journey.🧘♂️ It doesn’t aim to name or blame—it aims to heal and make sense of the inexplicable. I write this journal with minimal research, using dreams as keys to unlock my thoughts. When the world fails to offer clarity, I believe our inner world still does.
🔍 Why this matters to you: In a world flooded with information, we often overlook the quiet wisdom that resides within us. If you’ve ever dreamt something that felt too real, or had a moment of déjà vu that shook you—perhaps it’s time you paid attention.💭 What are your dreams trying to tell you?🕊️ Are you brave enough to interpret your own soul?🖋️ Pen by Zee is more than just writing—it’s a journey of self-reflection, healing, and mindful exploration.
If this resonates with you, I invite you to follow along or even start your own journal of dreams. Spirituality #DreamInterpretation #Journaling #SelfDiscovery #MentalHealth #Mindfulness #InnerWisdom #WritingTherapy #PenByZee #ZeeVibe
If my writing has touched your heart, sparked a thought, or brought a moment of peace, consider supporting my work. Every donation—big or small—not only fuels my passion for storytelling, poetry, and mindful living, but also helps uplift causes I deeply care about, like combating food poverty through the Feed it Forward initiative and supporting Auckland City Mission.
💛 Support the Words that Make a Difference
If my writing has touched your heart, sparked a thought, or brought a moment of peace, consider supporting my work. Every donation—big or small—not only fuels my passion for storytelling, poetry, and mindful living.
🖊️ Donate today and become a part of the story.
Thank you for believing in words that heal, inspire, and ignite change.
Aileen barely escaped the collapsing underground chamber, clutching the mysterious artifact she retrieved—an object pulsing with an eerie energy. The betrayal from within her trusted circle still stung as she pieced together the hidden messages left behind. With every step forward, she felt the weight of unseen eyes tracking her. But was it a friend… or another enemy lurking in the shadows?
The Storm Within
The night air was thick with tension as Aileen stood at the edge of the abandoned cliffside manor. The ocean roared below, waves colliding violently against jagged rocks as if mirroring the chaos inside her mind. She turned the artifact over in her hands—it felt warm now, almost alive, reacting to her presence.
“Why was this hidden for so long?” she murmured. “And why do they want it so badly?”
A flicker of movement caught her eye. Someone was here. She wasn’t alone.
She spun around, her breath hitching. The dim glow of lanterns in the distance flickered ominously. Footsteps approached from the far end of the ruins.
“Step away from the edge, Aileen,” a familiar voice called out.
Her heart pounded. It was him.
A Reckoning in the Shadows
From the darkness emerged Dorian, his expression unreadable. Aileen clenched her fists, remembering the betrayal. He had worked against her. He had led her into the trap.
“You set me up,” she said, her voice sharp as a blade.
Dorian sighed. “You don’t understand—”
“Then make me.”
He stepped closer, his silhouette cutting through the fog. “I didn’t betray you. I was trying to protect you.”
Aileen scoffed. “By leading me into a death trap?!”
Dorian shook his head. “You weren’t supposed to go that far. They—” He hesitated. “They wanted to scare you off, not kill you.”
Aileen’s grip tightened around the artifact. “Who are they?”
Before he could answer, a chilling sound echoed through the ruins—a whispering, almost inhuman. The air turned heavy, the temperature plummeting. The artifact in her hands started glowing.
Dorian’s eyes widened in alarm. “Aileen, whatever you do—don’t drop it!”
Unseen Forces at Play
The wind howled as unseen energy surged through the ruins. The whispers grew louder, weaving around them like unseen specters. The shadows shifted unnaturally.
Aileen’s breath came in shallow gasps. “What… what is happening?”
Dorian stepped forward, but a sudden force slammed him back, knocking him into the stone wall. He groaned in pain.
The artifact burned against Aileen’s palm, its golden surface pulsing. Images flooded her mind—a hidden past, an ancient promise, and a destiny she never asked for.
Then, just as suddenly as it started, the energy vanished. The whispers ceased. The ruins fell silent again.
Aileen staggered back, breathing heavily. Dorian struggled to his feet, his gaze locked onto her with an unreadable intensity.
“You need to leave,” he rasped. “Now.”
Aileen straightened. “Not without answers.”
Dorian clenched his jaw. “Then be ready to face what comes next
What do you think the artifact really is? A key? A curse? A piece of lost history? Drop your theories in the comments below!
Next Chapter Promo:
Just when Aileen thinks she’s grasping the truth, an unexpected ally emerges with shocking revelations. But can she trust them? Or is she walking straight into another trap? Find out in Chapter 20!
Recap of Chapter 16 The tremors grew louder, and Aileen barely escaped the collapsing underground chamber with the ancient artifact in her hands. The betrayal by Marcus cut deeper than any blade, leaving Aileen reeling from shock as she pieced together his deception. As the group scattered to safety, the artifact’s strange glow pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat, almost as if it were alive. Outside, a storm brewed, mirroring the chaos within her.
Chapter 17 The howling wind lashed at Aileen’s face as she stood on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the restless ocean. Lightning danced across the darkened sky, illuminating the jagged rocks below. She clutched the artifact tightly, its smooth surface warm against her palm. Despite the storm’s fury, the glow from the artifact remained steady, a beacon in the tempest.
“This can’t all be for nothing,” she muttered to herself, the weight of her journey pressing heavily on her shoulders. “If Marcus thinks he’s won, he has no idea who he’s dealing with.”
Behind her, Evelyn and Kael approached cautiously, their faces etched with concern. Evelyn placed a reassuring hand on Aileen’s shoulder. “We’ve lost Marcus, but we haven’t lost the fight. That artifact… it’s the key to everything. We just need to figure out how to use it.”
Kael, ever the realist, leaned against a weathered tree. “If Marcus was willing to betray us, who else might be working against us? This isn’t just about trust anymore—it’s about survival.”
As they spoke, a sudden crack of thunder split the air, and Aileen felt the artifact grow warmer. She looked down to see faint symbols appearing on its surface, glowing faintly in time with her heartbeat. Her breath hitched. “It’s… it’s reacting to something.”
Evelyn leaned in closer. “Could it be the storm? Or maybe it’s connected to the ruins?”
Kael frowned. “Or it’s a warning. We should move before Marcus catches up to us.”
But Aileen was transfixed. The symbols on the artifact shifted and rearranged themselves, forming a pattern that seemed almost familiar. “Wait,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement. “I’ve seen this before—in Eleanor’s journal. It’s a map.”
The revelation sent a jolt of energy through the group. They hurried back to their makeshift camp, where Aileen spread the journal open on a flat rock. By the flickering light of the fire, she matched the symbols on the artifact to the ancient sketches in the journal. Her fingers traced the lines, her mind racing.
“It’s pointing to another location,” she said, her eyes alight with determination. “This wasn’t the final destination—it’s just the beginning.”
Evelyn’s brow furrowed. “But if Marcus knows about this, he’ll be one step ahead of us.”
“Then we need to move faster,” Aileen replied. She looked at her companions, her voice steady despite the storm raging around them. “This is our chance to set things right. If we don’t, everything we’ve fought for will be lost.”
Kael nodded, his earlier doubts replaced by resolve. “Let’s pack up. We leave at first light.”
As the group prepared for their next journey, Aileen couldn’t shake the feeling that the artifact was watching her. Its glow had dimmed, but she could still feel its presence, like a heartbeat syncing with her own. What secrets did it hold? And why did it feel like the deeper they ventured, the more questions they uncovered?
Post-cap and Tease for Chapter 18 As dawn broke, the storm subsided, leaving behind a sky painted in hues of gold and crimson. The group set out, their hearts heavy with the weight of their mission but buoyed by the hope of uncovering the truth. Yet, unknown to them, shadows moved in the distance—Marcus wasn’t far behind. And he wasn’t alone.
What awaits them at the next location? Will the artifact reveal more of its secrets, or will its mysteries only deepen? And can Aileen trust her companions, or will betrayal strike again when they least expect it?
Interactive Questions for Readers
What do you think the artifact’s ultimate purpose might be?
Should the group encounter a new ally or an unexpected enemy at the next location?
How do you feel about Marcus’s betrayal—should Aileen confront him sooner, or should the tension build for a climactic showdown?
Let me know your thoughts in the comments! If I choose one of your suggestions to shape the story, I’ll @ mention your name and include any message you’d like to share. Let’s craft this thrilling journey together!
