A javelin thrown through twilight’s veil,

piercing folds where silence sails—

a feather caught on whispered breath,

carrying grief between life and death.

In rooms where faded light descends,

a slow refrain, no need for ends—

just gentle chords that hum and swell,

the stories only shadows tell.

A secret garden, overgrown,

with fireflies’ flicker, softly sewn—

a psalm beneath the trembling stars,

an elegy for hidden scars.

No trumpet blares, no chorus swells,

just quiet hearts where longing dwells—

a hymn composed in muted tones,

felt deep inside, but never known.

The river bends but never breaks,

the fragile ache that daylight wakes—

a silent prayer that lingers long,

a tender thread inside a song.

In this stillness, love is kept,

where broken wings and dreams have slept—

a lullaby for souls that roam,