POEM - The Weight Of Splendor

Beneath the sky of burning gold,

Where dawn unwraps its hues untold,

I walked alone through morning's fire,

With heart both heavy and desire.

The hills were dressed in robes of light,

Each blade of grass, each dew-drop bright,

The world around in glory spun,

Yet bore the weight of rising sun.

The air was thick with songs unsung,

With silver threads on branches hung,

Each ray a sword, both sharp and kind,

That cut through doubt and stirred the mind.

The splendor wrapped me head to toe,

Yet somewhere deep, I felt it grow—

A burden vast, both fierce and grand,

Like holding stars with mortal hands.

The flowers bowed though fierce they bloomed,

Their colors rich, their scents perfumed,

Yet still they drooped as if they knew,

That beauty’s cost was falling too.

I gazed at trees with emerald veins,

Whose roots held earth, whose leaves caught rain,

Their branches sang with light’s embrace,

Yet bent beneath its golden grace.

I stood atop the field of flame,

Where poppies burned and sunflowers came,

To turn their heads in worship stance,

Yet bear the heat of light’s advance.

The rivers too, with silver skin,

Reflected skies they held within,

But felt the pull, the downward drag,

Of splendor’s weight in every lag.

The mountains wore their crowns of white,

Majestic, tall, in dawn’s first light,

Yet bore the years with silent grief,

Their strength eroded, peak and reef.

Even the clouds in painted rows,

Carried the sun like silent oaths,

A heavy robe, though soft it seemed,

Their bellies full of weight unseen.

And there I stood, both small and keen,

A fragile soul in gold unseen,

Each ray that kissed became a chain,

That tethered joy with threads of pain.

For beauty speaks in tongues of stone,

In light so bright it chills the bone,

It beckons hearts, but dares us know,

The cost to hold what dares to glow.

I knelt within that amber field,

Where shadows long and soft revealed,

That glory’s shine is never free,

It asks for roots, it asks for me.

My shoulders burned with unseen load,

The echoes of the morning flowed,

Like symphonies of weight and worth,

Like pulling heaven close to earth.

I wished to dance like leaves on air,

To float with joy, released from care,

Yet felt the pull of something more,

A depth that beauty makes us store.

The burden comes with colors fierce,

With blazing skies that pierce and pierce,

With songs so vast they bend the heart,

And pull its fragile threads apart.

Yet still I stayed, with steady breath,

Accepting both the life and death,

Of moments bright, both sharp and grand,

That press like oceans on the sand.

For every rose that scents the air,

Will shed its petals unaware,

And every dawn with golden thread,

Will mark the nights we’ve softly bled.

The weight of splendor, pure and vast,

Is not to flee, nor hold too fast,

But feel it rise inside your chest,

And wear it bold, as life’s request.

To love the light, though it may blind,

To walk through fire with open mind,

To lift the sun with trembling grace,

And bear its burn upon your face.

To know the cost, and love it still,

To climb each gold-stitched, aching hill,

To cry in joy, to laugh in pain,

And carry both like summer rain.

So when the day slips into dusk,

And leaves the sky in amber musk,

I’ll stand once more with lifted eyes,

And thank the weight that made me rise.

For splendor comes both fierce and wide,

With burning heart and swelling tide,

And those who dare to let it stay,

Will wear its scars like bright array.

So let it fall, both sweet and strong,

Let life’s full chorus pull along,

For every shining, burning part—

Will leave its map upon the heart.

✨ Short Summary:

"The Weight of Splendor" is a contemplative and emotional poem exploring the paradox of beauty and burden. The narrator walks through a world filled with radiant natural splendor—glowing sunrises, blooming fields, shining rivers, and majestic mountains—all breathtaking, yet carrying an emotional and physical weight. The poem reflects on how true beauty, while inspiring, often comes with its own heaviness: the cost of awareness, the pain behind brightness, and the emotional toll of holding onto awe. In the end, the narrator embraces both the joy and sorrow that splendor brings, learning that bearing its weight is part of truly living and feeling fully alive.