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 ...
Whispers Between the Stars
Beneath the velvet curtain of the sky,
Where stars are scattered like seeds of fire,
I wander in silence, asking the night
What it means to carry both loss and desire.
The moon leans down, a silver-faced guide,
Its light trembling on restless seas,
And every ripple speaks in secret tongues,
Telling stories older than trees.
Time drifts by on invisible wings,
Hours fluttering like startled birds,
And yet, within the heart’s deep chambers,
There are echoes no clock can turn to words.
I see the river bend like memory,
Carrying fragments of forgotten days,
A mother’s lullaby, a lover’s laughter,
Moments lost in the current’s haze.
But some return, fierce and unbroken,
Clinging to the rocks of soul,
Like lanterns lit against the storm,
Refusing to dim, refusing to fold.
And so I walk, with shadows trailing,
Through alleys of thought, through forests of dream,
Each step a verse, each breath a stanza,
In a poem written by the unseen.
The world is weary yet endlessly tender,
A paradox stitched with fragile thread,
Where joy and grief dance hand in hand,
And tears give birth to words unsaid.
I think of the faces I’ve loved and lost,
Each one a constellation etched in skin,
Though they’ve vanished beyond the horizon,
Their light still burns quietly within.
Perhaps we are all wandering stars,
Drawn together by gravity’s song,
Meeting for moments, colliding in fire,
Before drifting to where we belong.
The night listens, patient and vast,
Cradling my questions without reply,
And in its silence I learn the truth:
Answers are fleeting, but wonder will never die.
For what is life, if not a weaving,
Of sorrow’s thread with joy’s bright hue?
A tapestry stretched between earth and heaven,
Painted with shades both old and new.
I kneel beneath the endless sky,
Hands open, heart unafraid,
And whisper thanks to the nameless winds
For the music this fragile world has made.
Every dawn is a page unfinished,
Every dusk a chapter closed,
Yet the story runs beyond our sight,
A book no human fully knows.
Still I write my lines in starlight,
Still I hum my tune in rain,
For beauty is born in fleeting things,
And love survives in every vein.
So let the night stretch on forever,
Let constellations fade and reappear,
I will keep walking, poem in hand,
Carrying hope through every year.
And when at last my voice grows silent,
And shadows claim my wandering flame,
May my words drift into the cosmos,
To become a star someone else will name.
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