Priscilla P. Pillay is a metaphysical poetess and writer based in Geneva, Switzerland, whose work is devoted to one enduring and quietly radical question: how to live correctly in a world that is always longing for more. More speed, more achievement, more noise, more possession. Her writing resists this momentum. It turns instead toward presence, meaning, restraint, and reverence for the unseen layers of life. She writes from the conviction that life is not something to be mastered or optimized, but something to be listened to. Her work unfolds at the intersection of philosophy, spirituality, and lived experience, where questions are honored more than conclusions and where uncertainty is treated not as a weakness, but as a sacred space.

She is deeply interested in the inner life—the subtle negotiations between desire and discipline, ambition and contentment, and longing and sufficiency. As a metaphysical poetess, her language is deliberate, tactile, and spacious. She uses words with the same care one might use when shaping clay or mixing pigments, attentive to weight, silence, and form. Her poetry often reflects on time, devotion, mortality, love, and ethical living—not as abstract ideals, but as daily, embodied practices. She is especially drawn to the tension between hunger and enough, between the impulse to reach outward and the wisdom of returning inward. Beyond writing, her creative life is rooted in making things by hand. She is a botanical artist who paints the botanical world and its intricacies, drawn to the quiet intelligence of plants—their patience, resilience, hidden geometries, and precise beauty.

Alongside her painting practice, she creates handmade ancient pottery, working with earth in its most elemental form. This physical relationship with material—soil, water, fire—deeply informs her writing. It reminds her that meaning is shaped slowly, that form requires limits, and that beauty often emerges through restraint. Her love of animals, particularly rabbits, reflects the same sensibility. She is drawn to their gentle, warm nature, their softness, and their alertness to the present moment. In their calm vulnerability, she finds something instructive—a lesson in quiet existence, in safety without dominance.

She allows herself to bask in this gentleness, seeing it not as fragility but as a form of strength that modern life often forgets. Motherhood is another profound influence on her work. Her children are her greatest teachers, constantly calling her back to what matters most. Through them, she is reminded to choose life in its best essence—to remain awake to joy, to grief, to play, and to responsibility. They anchor her philosophy in reality, ensuring that her reflections on ethical living remain grounded, lived, and imperfectly human.

As a contributor to MEER, she offers readers a contemplative counterpoint to contemporary excess. Her writing does not instruct or persuade; it invites. She writes for those who sense that something essential is being overlooked in the rush for more—for readers who are seeking not escape, but alignment. Her work respects the reader’s intelligence and emotional depth, trusting them to sit with complexity, slowness, and unanswered questions. Ultimately, Priscilla P. Pillay writes as an act of devotion—to consciousness, to beauty, and to the fragile dignity of the inner life. In a world that urges constant expansion, she asks a quieter, more demanding question: what does it mean to live well—and to live gently—within the limits of being human?

Her work speaks especially to those navigating modern exhaustion, spiritual displacement, and ethical fatigue. By slowing the reader down, she offers not solutions but orientation, a way of standing differently in the world. Her voice is neither nostalgic nor prescriptive; it is quietly rigorous, asking attention, humility, and care in an uncertain present and future.