"Whispers Beneath the Moon"

On the curve of night, where silence bends,

A soul sits still as the dark transcends.

Upon a branch that dares to dream,

He rides the hush of moonlight’s beam.

A bird flies past with wings of ink,

While thoughts in shadows softly sink.

The tree, a bridge to sky's domain,

Holds secrets born from joy and pain.

He gazes deep through silver skies,

Where stars are questions in disguise.

No crowd, no voice, just breath and breeze—

A world reduced to quiet ease.

The moon behind—a glowing truth,

Reflecting dreams once held in youth.

Yet now, alone, he finds his way,

Through echoes of a distant day.

The wind does not disturb his peace,

Nor time demand his thoughts to cease.

For in that space between the stars,

He heals invisible, old scars.

O you who sit on nature’s hand,

Far from the noise of noisy land—

May your silence teach the rest,

That solitude is sometimes best.