The Song of Endless Roads I. The Beginning The morning stirs with golden breath, A hush before the day is born. The earth awakens, soft and slow, Its heart still trembling from the dawn. I step into the waiting silence, Shoes damp with dew, lungs filled with sky. The road before me bends and whispers, “Walk on, child, don’t ask why.” For every path has secrets hidden, Carved in stone and sung by streams, And those who dare to keep on walking Find their footsteps leading into dreams. II. Voices of the Earth The fields are choirs of quiet wonder, Grass blades hum in emerald rows. The trees hold council in their stillness, Guardians of what the spirit knows. Birdsong bursts like sudden laughter, Rising clear where shadows fade. Each feathered voice a note of freedom, Each trill a hymn creation made. The wind becomes my patient teacher, Tracing stories along my skin. It speaks of journeys without ending, Of worlds that live both out and in. III. The Weight ...
The City of Silent Bells
At the edge of a forgotten plain,
Where stone towers lean and shadows reign,
There lies a city, vast and still,
Its bells unsounded, its streets grown chill.
No footsteps stir, no voices call,
Dust drapes heavy on every wall.
Yet once, they say, the city shone,
With bells whose music was its own.
I. The Bells of Dawn
Each morning rang a gentle tone,
A note to wake the town alone.
Children laughed beneath its chime,
Merchants opened shops in time.
The bells of dawn were clear and bright,
They scattered dreams, they summoned light.
Their song would ripple, calm, complete,
Binding strangers on every street.
But silence came when wars began,
When greed consumed the hearts of man.
The bells were silenced, one by one,
Their voices hushed, their music done.
II. The Traveler
Centuries later, weary feet,
Carried a traveler through the heat.
He sought no treasure, crown, or gold,
But stories whispered, legends old.
He found the city’s gate ajar,
Its stones like ashes from a star.
Through lifeless streets, he walked with care,
A thousand echoes haunted there.
And as he passed, his heart could tell,
This was the city of silent bells.
III. The First Tower
The traveler climbed a broken stair,
Into a tower, high and bare.
A shattered bell lay split in two,
Its bronze grown green, its voice subdued.
He touched the metal, cold as stone,
And heard a whisper, soft, his own:
“I rang for dawn, for hope, for birth.
Now silence binds me to the earth.
But strike me true, with heart sincere,
And once again the world may hear.”
The traveler struck with trembling hand,
The bell released a sound so grand.
It rolled across the silent town,
And lifted dust from every crown.
IV. The Second Tower
Encouraged now, he pressed ahead,
Through streets where even shadows fled.
Another tower reached the skies,
Its bell asleep, its ropes untied.
He climbed, though weary, climbed once more,
And found the bell on timber floor.
It spoke with sorrow, deep and wide:
“I rang for love, for groom and bride.
But envy, hatred, tore apart
The vows of man, the trust of heart.
If you would wake me, strike with care,
And mend the bonds that broke despair.”
The traveler struck; the bell awoke,
Its note was tender, pure, bespoke.
And in its sound, the city wept,
For promises it had not kept.
V. The Third Tower
A final tower crowned the square,
Its bell unbroken, hanging there.
The largest yet, its silence vast,
It seemed to guard the city’s past.
The traveler stood, his spirit weak,
The bell began itself to speak:
“I rang for peace, for mercy’s hand,
For brothers joined across the land.
But men grew deaf, their rage too loud,
And buried me beneath the shroud.
Strike once again, if you believe,
That peace is more than hearts deceive.”
The traveler closed his eyes in prayer,
And struck the bell with all his care.
The sound burst forth, a thunder’s wave,
And shook the city from its grave.
VI. The Awakening
The streets once dark began to glow,
The wind awoke, the bells did flow.
From every tower, near and far,
Their voices rose like guiding stars.
The traveler wept; his chest was light,
The city bloomed with sudden life.
Its stones grew warm, its air grew sweet,
And echoes danced on every street.
The bells sang out a hymn of years,
Of joy, of sorrow, loss, of tears.
They sang of love not lost in vain,
Of peace reborn through human pain.
VII. The Leaving
When morning broke, the traveler stood,
Alone again, in quiet wood.
The city faded, slow, away,
As sunlight crowned the waking day.
No stones remained, no towers tall,
No bells to answer any call.
Yet in his chest, the music stayed,
A gift the silent city made.
He carried it from town to town,
A song to lift the weary down.
And all who heard him, near and far,
Felt bells within them, what they are.
VIII. The Bells Within
For though the towers fall to rust,
And time returns us all to dust,
The bells of love, of dawn, of peace,
Ring inward, where their echoes cease.
No war can silence, greed erase,
The sound of kindness, gift, and grace.
The city’s tale, the bells’ refrain,
Reminds that loss can bloom again.
So listen close, when nights are still,
When winds are soft on vale and hill—
For if you dare, your heart may tell,
The song that wakes the silent bell.
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