Let Them Chatter Like Sparrows

Let them chatter like sparrows

pecking at crumbs of each other’s echoes~

small minds making small music,

never hearing the wind beyond their street.

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I do not carry their names.

I do not bend beneath their buzzing.

They are noise without meaning,

shadows cast by nothing with a pulse.

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I walk a road where silence is a teacher~

where rage is not a banner, but a leash,

and I have cut the leash clean.

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What is a wolf to a fly?

What is a mountain to a matchstick flame?

Let them burn out their borrowed sparks~

I have a sun under my skin.

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Their opinions are drift-sand.

I am bedrock.

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They call from across the river

but the current between us is the years

I spent bleeding for clarity,

while they slept in the shallows

and dreamed of safety.

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I do not stand above them.

I simply stand beyond them.

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I have crossed the threshold

into a life that answers only to the heart-fire,

to the marrow-oath,

to the silent vow I swore when no one was watching:

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I will become.

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So let them talk.

Let them point.

Let them pretend to know what it means to live.

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I do not hate them.

I do not love them.

I do not even think of them.

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I only walk.

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And the path moves with me.

🪶