There’s a silence that lingers, sharp and deep, a soundless storm where shadows weep. It fills the room with unseen weight,
By Luciaabout a year ago in Poets
Amid the rush, the endless race, small moments linger, soft with grace. A child’s laugh, a fleeting smile, a sunbeam resting for a while.
Among the crowd, I drift unseen, a ghost within this bustling scene. Their laughter echoes, voices rise, yet silence holds me, wrapped in disguise.
Between nearness and distance, we reside, a fragile thread, stretched far and wide. The warmth of touch, the whispered name,
Before me lies the edge of all I know, a precipice where shadows twist and grow. The ground behind feels safe, secure, and still,
Beneath the sky of twilight’s hue, The forest sleeps in silver blue. Its branches bow with snowy grace, A crystal crown for nature’s face.
The forest breathes, its heart anew. Each leaf descends, a fleeting flame, A whispered call, a timeless name. The river hums a gentle song,
Upon the cliff of boundless skies, A traveler gazes, soul complies. The stars erupt in ancient lore, A whisper from the cosmic shore.
Beneath the veil of morning’s haze, A brook meanders, humbly plays. Its voice, a hymn both soft and clear, Speaks truths that only hearts can hear.
In the stillness of the darkest night, I drift alone, bereft of light. But there’s a hand that holds me near, steady, calm, and always clear.
Before me stands the silent witness, a quiet frame, cold and clear. It stares back with steady stillness, revealing all that I hold near.
In the quiet of the night, they creep, shadows whisper where silence should sleep. Soft voices rise, a ceaseless tide, thoughts that twist and turn inside.
