Silence might be the voice of its own,
Even the quiet could be echoing, this too could happen.
My past, separated from me, who knows in what state it is,
It, like me, might also be alone, this too could happen.
How long, wandering through the deserts, searching for love,
The whole world might just be a desert, this too could happen.
The people of the storm are thinking, the shore might be sinking,
Perhaps even their own hearts are drowning, this too could happen.
With eyes lost in haze, they walk in the shadows of dark locks,
For those intoxicated, it might seem like a pleasant breeze, this too could happen.
My friends, what’s the harm in the slayer’s grace,
Perhaps what appears to be blood is merely the color of henna; this, too, is possible.
In this whole gathering, why the indifference towards him?
There might be a special way of loyalty, this too could happen.
About the Creator
kainat
Sensitive Over Glass, Reader, travel lover, and Self-care advocate.
Just trying to bring a little light and joy into this world.
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 📚🪶3 days ago in Petlife
Comments (3)
i love your poems
Wow! Your poem has a lot to say! The repetition of "this too could happen" make every mentioned feeling and act even more possible and increase it's possibility. The different and deep sights that you've shown in the poem are appreciative and we need more poems like yours <3
Your poem exudes sensitivity, sincerity, deep contemplation, and love. This is so rare, yet it exists everywhere. We just need to let it flow without conditions.