PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I do not know what waits beyond

This pale horizon’s shifting seam,

The road is fog, the stars are gone,

Yet still I follow some old dream.

No map, no mark, no prophet’s voice,

No compass etched in stone or sky,

Just breath and hush, a wavering choice,

To walk, though every reason asks me why.

Each footfall hums a softer tune,

Not brave, not bold, but something near,

A whisper shaped beneath the moon,

Not “Go,” but simply, “Still be here.”

And is that not what hope becomes,

A rhythm carried in the chest?

Not knowing where the morning drums,

But rising still, and doing our best.

So let the dark be what it is,

A cloak, a gate, a sea unspun,

My soul has learned the art of this,

To step, not seeing, toward the sun.

For poetry walks where language breaks,

In silences the heart completes,

Each step a faith the future takes,

Though blind, the path beneath me speaks.