Between Sunlight and Silence

There is a moment that lives between sunlight and silence,

A trembling pause where the world forgets its noise,

Where shadows linger like half-remembered dreams,

And the air tastes of both endings and beginnings.

I walk into it barefoot,

Feeling the warmth of the day slipping from stone,

And the hush of night rising in my chest,

Like an old hymn no one remembers singing.

The sunlight clings to the edges of leaves,

Gold dripping into green,

While silence gathers in the folds of the horizon,

Softer than breath, deeper than sleep.

It is here that time slows to a heartbeat,

Each second stretched like thread between two eternities.

A bird hesitates on its wing,

Unsure whether to sing or to disappear into the coming dark.

Between sunlight and silence,

I find fragments of myself scattered—

The child who chased fireflies,

The dreamer who promised to never forget wonder,

The wanderer who buried too many goodbyes.

And yet, this space is not sorrow.

It is a refuge, a sanctuary of stillness,

Where the noise of grief dissolves,

And the ache of tomorrow waits at the door.

Here, I can breathe without questions,

I can exist without answers.

Here, the world is not asking me to choose

Between staying or leaving,

Between speaking or hiding.

It is enough to stand in the glow of fading light,

Enough to listen to the silence that follows,

Enough to remember that life itself

Is lived in these in-between places—

Between sunlight and silence,

Between what was and what will be.