When the World Stood Still

The echoes came, a world grown loud,

Beneath the weight of the bustling crowd.

Yet in two days, a story spread,

Of silence born where chaos tread.

The Earth stood still, the skies burned red,

And questions swirled in every head.

A comet's path, a warning cry,

A fleeting flame across the sky.

From ancient lands to cities bright,

The whispers traveled overnight.

"Did you see it? That blazing streak?"

A sight both wondrous and unique.

This comet tore through heaven's dome,

A harbinger far from home.

Its tail on fire, like angels' wings,

Puts hearts afire with wonderings.

"Might it be fate? Something sent?

A call for change? A firmament?"

The sage and seer, the rich and poor,

Stand watching, waiting, wanting more.

The scientists scampered, charts unfurl,

To track the course that shaped the world.

But poets dreamed of cosmic lore,

And what the comet held in store.

Some called it the end of times,

An omen setting skies on fire.

Yet other men named it a guiding fire,

To burn up that old to make way for a desire.

In TikTok cuts, in flying tweets,

This was a comet of an unseen feat.

From meme into myth, the tales keep going,

A thousand truths and none exactly true is glowing.

A mother clasps her child so tight,

And prayed right through the night.

Love took up lovers by a kiss so cold,

Hushing some truths that never told.

The artists painted streams of fire,

A palette pulled from restless dreams.

While prophets stood in city squares,

Preaching tales of answered prayers.

But as the comet's fire waned,

Its brilliance dimmed, its tail restrained,

The world awoke with clearer sight,

Bathed in its fleeting, radiant light.

The skies returned to shades of blue,

Yet something lingered, something new.

For in those hours, calm and stark,

The world had shifted in the dark.

It wasn't fear that stayed their breath,

Nor was it thoughts of fleeting death.

It was the wonder, raw and wild,

That each had glimpsed, like a beguiled child.

For once, the phones fell from their hands,

And gazes met the starry spans.

They saw the vastness, felt the space,

That held them in its warm embrace.

No barriers stood, no borders seen,

Just endless skies of midnight sheen.

And for a time, the Earth stood one,

United under a dying sun.

The mark was made, the comet left,

Its purpose served, its role portrayed.

A cosmic muse, a fleeting guest,

A flame that lit divergent views.

And when the people turned once more,

To mundane tasks, to daily chore,

They carried with them what they'd learned,

From fiery skies where hearts had burned.

To seek the wonder in the small,

To find the magic in it all.

For fleeting moments shape our days,

Like comets burning through the haze.

A streak of fire, a blazing spark,

That carves a trail across the dark.

It leaves no trace, no ash, no stone,

But wakes the hearts we call our own.

And so, the comet's tale remains,

A story sung in soft refrains.

Of when the world stood still and gazed,

In awe beneath the heavens' blaze.