Dear XRP Fam, my name is Charu.
Yes, Charu. That’s my Japanese name.
My ex Japanese girlfriend couldn’t pronounce my name properly, so she started calling me Charu. Ever since then, all my Japanese friends and colleagues have been calling me that as well.
That’s all there is to it.
You don’t need to ask me any personal questions. I’m an investor just like you, and I just want my investment to grow and appreciate in value.
My aim is to get rich and live a comfortable, stress free life 😉
The Bright and the Buried
Bannered bright and brass-buttoned, Chest lit with cord and badge and borrowed courage, They marched toward something they could not name But called it glory because glory fits in a mouth And terror does not.
Is it God? Is it the grip of a girl's hand in a doorway? Is it the boy beside you, and the shame Of being the one who stayed?
Faceless men clink glasses in warm light. Gold glints on the fingers that sign the papers. They sell the embrace of death Like a thing with a fair price.
But the boy doesn't see the ledger. He sees home. He sees love. He sees something worth the cost of him And so he pays it.
Now I watch them cross the sky — Human wrought, or machine-minded, Ever hearing, never heard, Silver and silent as a prayer no one finishes.
On remembrance days the fog comes. Cold blanket on a wound that never closed right. The cost was never counted proper. Not by bankers. Not by kings.
Still.
I will fight for what I love Though love is imperfect And the cause is never clean And heaven answers in riddles.
A midnight guitar wept somewhere beyond the fog. Not triumph. Not surrender. Just a man, standing in the cold, Refusing.
riddle me this...
Beneath the rafters, bleak and hollow,
Whilst dying embers faintly swallow
Winter’s breath of ashen gray,
I kept my solemn watch till day.
The branches clawed the frosted pane,
Like beggars pleading in the rain,
And from the hearth there came no cheer—
Only the groan of another year.
Yet somewhere deep the black earth stirred,
A secret neither seen nor heard;
For though the snow still choked the vine,
The hidden root dreamed, “Soon is thine.”
Long have I wandered, lean of hand,
A pilgrim in a barren land,
With tattered hopes in coat concealed
And fortunes yet to be revealed.
Many a night I clenched my breast
To cage the wolf within my chest;
Many a dawn I bowed my head
Above cold crumbs instead of bread.
Still did I labor, stern and lone,
With iron marrow in the bone,
Till Fate herself, with teasing smile,
Paused beside my door awhile.
And now the whisper creeps anew
Like mist that crawls the churchyard dew:
A rustling sound… a sacred weight…
A promise lingering near the gate.
Tell me then, thou shadowed friend—
What treasure waits as winters end?
What sleeps within these pockets worn,
Awaiting yet a fairer morn?