Tag: poem

Saturn’s ringed silence,
distant light across the void—
the cosmos dreaming.

Steam curls from the cup,
bitter warmth meets quiet lips—
morning begins slow.

The ocean swears to bring things home,
Drifting letters, ships of stone.
It hums its vow in waves and foam,
A voice that sings, yet speaks alone.

Though tides may steal, though storms may take,
The sea does not forget or break.
For even when it swallows deep,
The ocean keeps the things we keep.

I am the last leaf on the tree,
Clinging where the wind runs free.
My brothers fell, my sisters flew,
Yet still I hold, though nights turn blue.

Will I let go, or will I stay,
Until the winds have gone away?
Perhaps my place is not to fall,
But to remind—spring comes for all.

Does the river choose its way,
Or does it flow where earth will stay?
Does it carve its path with will so strong,
Or does it simply drift along?

Perhaps we, too, are like the stream,
Torn between control and dream.
Yet whether course is lost or planned,
All rivers find the sea’s embrace at last.

The sky holds secrets in its folds,
In hues of pink, in streaks of gold.
Each star a whisper left behind,
Each cloud a dream we couldn’t find.
The wind may shift, the dusk may fall,
Yet still the sky remembers all.
For even when the night turns deep,
The sky holds secrets while we sleep.

A lantern burns through fog and night,
A beacon small, yet fierce and bright.
It guards the lost, it shows the way,
It whispers hope to those who stray.

But even flames must dim and wane,
Their wax consumed, their fuel drained.
Yet in the dark, though flames may die,
A single spark still lights the sky.

Voices fade, but echoes stay,
Lingering in the light of day.
A whisper lost, a song unsung,
Yet still it hums where hearts have clung.

An echo does not mourn its past,
It bends, it moves, it holds, it lasts.
For though the sound may drift and part,
The echo lingers in the heart.