PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Not the thunder,  

but the pause between  

teaches me to listen.  

A sparrow’s wing  

writes its brief decree  

across the dusk—  

and I am numbered.  

If silence is inscription,  

let it be carved  

on the marrow of my days:  

that nothing wasted  

is ever lost.  

The heavens are not speech,  

yet their dark fire  

outshines every tongue.  

Galaxies wheel—  

not as ornaments,  

but as verdicts:  

that glory is too vast  

for syllables to cage.  

I lift my eyes,  

and the silence burns brighter  

than any temple lamp.