Duran Morgan

I’m currently tucked away with these beautiful pagoda lanterns, deep in the absolute chaos of writing the final 3 poems for Chapter 4 of To Regrow a Garden. 🖤💀

This chapter has been a total journey. It’s heavy, it’s raw, and it’s finally time to close this door and move toward the light. 🥀

A little sneak peek at the current mood:

“Its whispers gave way for the child

To don a new, jagged crown.

A trumpet sounded from the northeast,”

Stay tuned—the drop is coming soon. And if anyone needs me, I’ll be over here buried in my notes until this is done. ☕️✨

There is something about the way growth happens—quietly, stubbornly, even when the world feels cold. The next chapter of To Regrow a Garden: Notes on Finding Yourself drops this Monday. I’m ready to share what’s been blooming.

“Somewhere deep within these

hollowed grounds:

A child,

A puppet,

Now a nameless king exists”

Tomorrow: New chapter.

My sanity: TBD.

Your reading list: Hope you’re ready. 🥀🖋️

Snippet 😱:

“Faced with the ruins of a

place he once called home,

overlooking his land with a violet-

colored lens—

refusing to see the truth, his garden

scorched, trampled, and hollow.

Every inch of what he built tarnished

by the weight of cursed blood.

Haunted by the truth, all he sees

is a vibrant, flourishing garden.”