Beyond the Brick Wall

Why press it,

That tiny heart-shaped symbol,

If its beat carries no meaning?

Why place it there,

If not to be counted,

Not to be seen?

It shines for a second—

A flash of acknowledgment,

Yet emptier than silence.

The like button—

A lie button, perhaps.

A soft trick of design

To show who wandered through

But not who stayed,

Not who felt the words

Or lingered in the lines.

Time... it moves like a thief,

Quiet and relentless.

It takes old comforts,

Brings new battles.

Now, writing comes

Not with inspiration,

But in slivers—

In-between resting,

In-between exhaustion.

Reading too,

Once a joy,

Now squeezed between

Obligations and sighs.

The results of change—

Not always golden.

The old ways falter.

The pen hesitates.

The words scatter.

So, one must change too.

Not cheat the rhythm,

Not twist the form,

But find a new melody—

A slower, truer one.

The goal was reached.

The page was filled.

The badge was earned.

And then—

A wall.

Tall, rough,

Cold and unmoving.

This is where most leave.

Where footsteps turn back.

But what if—

What if the wall

Is not an end,

But a beginning?

Should it be climbed?

Should it be knocked down?

Or should we sit at its feet

And wait

For the wall to speak?

For beyond it

Might be the place

We always searched for:

More reads,

But not for numbers.

More writing,

But not for fame.

More joy,

Without expectation.

Less fatigue,

Fewer blocks.

Peace, perhaps.

We must change not to win,

But to grow.

To become something

Beyond the algorithm,

Beyond the audience,

Beyond even the like.

We write

Because something inside

Refuses to remain silent.

We climb

Not to be seen,

But to see.

We break walls

Not for applause,

But for air.

And if someday

No likes appear,

And no hearts glow,

Still we write.

Because the words matter.

Because they always did.