The Quiet Constellation

Don't mistake my quiet for an empty sky,

It's just a different galaxy drifting by.

While others are a roaring, bustling town,

My world is in the stars that don't make a sound.

I don't need a crowd to feel that I am real,

My thoughts are a rich, slow-turning wheel.

A party for me is a book and a chair,

A landscape built from silence and the air.

I recharge in the stillness, in the gentle hush,

Not in the noise, not in the frantic rush.

I listen to the words you leave unsaid,

And hear the whispers that the loudness fled.

So do not think me lonely, lost, or shy,

I'm simply a forest, underneath a wide sky.

My roots run deep where no one else can see,

The truest, strongest part of me.