Whispers Above the Clouds
A Poet's Journey to the Summit of Inspiration
Whispers Above the Clouds
A Poet’s Journey to the Summit of Inspiration
The path was steep, but his heart was light.
Arin had been walking for hours, the mountain trail winding endlessly beneath his boots. The world below had grown smaller, fading into the distance like a forgotten echo. Yet he didn’t feel tired. Not in the way he used to.
For months—no, years—Arin had been stuck. A once-celebrated poet, he had fallen silent. The words that once danced freely from his soul now hid in shadows, unreachable. Fame had come, then faded. Applause had dimmed. His pen, once an extension of his heart, lay untouched in a drawer.
One morning, after yet another sleepless night, he packed a small bag and walked out the door. No destination, no fanfare. Just a whisper within: Go where the sky touches the soul.
And now, here he was—nearing the summit of Mount Viraya, a place known more to monks than tourists. A place said to be "where silence speaks."
The final steps were the hardest. The air was thin, the wind sharp. But when Arin reached the top, everything changed.
The sun was just rising, spilling gold across the sky. Below him, a vast sea of clouds shimmered like waves frozen in time. He stood on an island in the sky.
He closed his eyes. For the first time in years, he didn’t think about being a poet. He didn’t think about success or expectations. He simply listened.
And then—he heard it.
Not a voice, not a sound, but a feeling. A whisper from within. A truth he had buried beneath doubt and fear.
“You were never meant to write for applause,” it said. “You write because your soul sings.”
Tears welled in Arin’s eyes—not from sadness, but from recognition. The mountain hadn’t given him new words; it had helped him remember the old ones. The true ones.
He pulled out his notebook, long forgotten at the bottom of his pack. His fingers trembled as he opened it. Not from cold—but from something else. A spark.
The pen moved.
Not forced, not rushed—just flowing.
He wrote about the wind. About the sky. About climbing, falling, rising again. About forgetting who you are, and then finally remembering. The words came like rain after drought.
For hours he wrote. And when he paused, it wasn’t because the words had stopped—but because his heart was full.
As the sun climbed higher, Arin stood and breathed deeply. He didn’t feel like the old Arin, or even a “new” Arin. He just felt real.
He didn’t need validation. He didn’t crave likes or followers. But he knew one thing: he would share this moment. Not to impress—but to inspire.
When he descended the mountain, he posted a simple poem online:
---
Whispers above the clouds,
Where the sky holds your name,
I climbed to lose myself—
And found my soul again.
---
To his surprise, the post resonated. Not because it was perfect—but because it was honest.
Thousands shared it. Not for its rhyme or rhythm—but for its truth.
Messages flooded in. People wrote:
“This reminded me why I paint.”
“I’ve been stuck for so long. This gave me hope.”
“Thank you. I needed this.”
And Arin replied to every one. Because this was what poetry was always meant to be—not a performance, but a connection.
---
A year later, Arin returned to Mount Viraya. Not to seek inspiration—but to say thank you. He sat at the same spot, watching the clouds roll beneath him.
In his hands was a small, hand-bound book: a collection of poems written since that first climb. But this time, the pages weren’t filled with the need to be noticed. They were filled with love. With truth.
He left a copy at the summit, tucked gently between two stones, for the next traveler who might need it.
Not signed. No name.
Just a note on the inside cover:
“May you remember who you are above the clouds.”
---
💬 What this story reminds us:
We all have mountains to climb—creative, emotional, or spiritual. Sometimes, the world tells us we need to do more, be more, prove more.
But often, the real inspiration comes when we pause, listen, and remember why we began at all.
You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be true.
---
If this story moved you, feel free to share it.
It might be the whisper someone else is waiting to hear. 🌤️✍️
About the Creator
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The Power of Poetry: A Journey Through 100 Uplifting Lines
The Power of Poetry: A Journey Through 100 Uplifting Lines Discover the Beauty, Strength, and Truth in Verse That Inspires and Heals In a quiet village nestled between golden fields and rolling hills, lived a young girl named Mira. She was known for her bright eyes and quiet spirit, always seen with a notebook in hand. While others chased noise and news, Mira sought the quiet music of words. Her mother had been a poet—gentle, wise, and full of light. She had passed away when Mira was only ten, leaving behind a single letter and a worn leather journal filled with her verses. One rainy afternoon, Mira sat by her window, the journal resting on her knees. She whispered, “If poems could speak, would they bring her voice back?” That question became the beginning of her journey. She decided she would write a single poem—a long one, 100 lines strong—to carry forward her mother’s spirit and share the healing poetry had brought her. She titled it: “A Light Within: 100 Lines of Hope” A Light Within: 100 Lines of Hope (Poem begins — 100 lines) 1. In every dawn, a promise lies, 2. Beneath the gold of waking skies. 3. A whispered breeze, a bird in flight, 4. The world begins again in light. 5. Though nights are long and shadows deep, 6. The earth still turns while angels sleep. 7. And stars, like poems, softly shine— 8. A gentle hand, a sacred sign. 9. When hearts are cracked by loss or fear, 10. Let every tear bring something near. 11. For in our pain, a seed is sown, 12. And from it, love and strength have grown. 13. The smallest word, the kindest touch, 14. Can steady hands that shake too much. 15. A line of verse, a melody, 16. Can set a weary spirit free. 17. I write not just for those who weep, 18. But those who dare to dream in sleep. 19. I write for joy, for peace, for flame— 20. For all the things we cannot name. 21. Each poem a lantern in the night, 22. A thread that pulls us toward the light. 23. Each stanza, like a heartbeat strong, 24. Each rhyme a place where souls belong. 25. Remember this when days are grey: 26. The storm will pass, the clouds give way. 27. The sun will rise, as sunflowers do— 28. And shine again inside of you. 29. Be kind, be brave, be fully you, 30. In all you feel, in all you do. 31. No step is small, no voice too low— 32. The softest seeds still choose to grow. 33. If you have stumbled, rise again. 34. The ground is not the end, but when 35. You lift yourself and breathe once more, 36. You’ll find your wings begin to soar. 37. Don’t chase the stars—be one instead. 38. Let kindness be the path you tread. 39. And when the world forgets your name, 40. Let love remain your lasting flame. 41. There’s beauty in the broken parts, 42. In scarred-up hands and healing hearts. 43. Perfection isn’t where you’ll find 44. The deepest truths of humankind. 45. So share your story, write your song, 46. And know that you have always belonged. 47. In laughter, tears, in dreams you’ve spun— 48. There lives the light of everyone. 49. Forgive the past, release its weight. 50. The future waits beyond the gate. 51. And as you step through morning’s hue, 52. Know this: the world makes room for you. 53. Walk barefoot in the morning dew, 54. Let skies of silver wash you new. 55. Let every breath remind your soul 56. That healing too can make you whole. 57. The quiet holds a secret sound— 58. A music humming underground. 59. It sings of roots and rise and rain, 60. Of all that’s lost and all we gain. 61. You are a poem, not yet done— 62. A rhythm dancing in the sun. 63. A verse that winds through time and space, 64. A sacred, irreplaceable grace. 65. Speak softly when the world is loud. 66. Be humble even when you’re proud. 67. And in your silence, may you find 68. The gentle language of the kind. 69. No storm will ever stay too long— 70. The soul was made to carry song. 71. And when you tremble, when you fall, 72. May courage answer every call. 73. The road is long, the map unclear, 74. But faith will always draw you near. 75. Not to a place, but to a way— 76. A journey shaped by each new day. 77. So light a candle in the dark, 78. And dare to be your truest spark. 79. Let kindness be the fire you feed— 80. It’s always been the thing we need. 81. Love deeply, even when it’s hard. 82. Forgiveness is a soft reward. 83. And gratitude, a steady tide— 84. It keeps the heart alive inside. 85. Find joy in things both big and small— 86. A morning breeze, a sparrow’s call. 87. A word well said, a silent nod— 88. The quiet, quiet grace of God. 89. And when your time to rest arrives, 90. May love be all you leave behind. 91. A single line, a glowing thread— 92. A light to guide when you have fled. 93. For poems last when we are gone, 94. They echo soft, they carry on. 95. And in their lines, we meet again— 96. As mother, daughter, now as friends. 97. So here I write these hundred lines, 98. To share her soul, to echo mine. 99. And if you read them, may you see— 100. The light within is also me. --- As Mira finished the final line, the clouds parted. Light spilled across her desk, just like it had in her mother’s old study. She closed the journal, smiled softly, and knew something sacred had passed between pages. Not just a poem—but healing. A connection. A legacy. Poetry hadn’t just helped her remember. It helped her begin again.
By Muhammad Saad 4 months ago in Poets
A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶2 days ago in Petlife
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