Fourlinegraphia

  Rain falls like curtains draped across the glass, A quiet song for those inside to hear. Love wakes like dawn above the morning grass, A tender promise made without a fear. For some, the rain is music on the pane, A silver rhythm falling through the night. For some, the roof gives way beneath the rain, The road erased beneath a sudden tide. For travelers walking out without a coat, The gentle drop can sharpen like a blade. And for the heart that trusts without a coat, A sudden passion leaves the soul betrayed. Perhaps the rain and love are much the same, Entering softly like the evening shade, Arriving with a spark of living flame, Then leaving us alone within the cold. They draw the blossom outward toward the light, And teach the sleeping root to reach anew. Yet frequently, before the buds ignite, They drown the garden in a shaded blue. To one, the storm is cadence on the roof; To one, a ceiling giving way to night. To one, sweet love is anchor, shield, and proof; To one, a lant...

  You called me the melody, yet it was your quiet shore that gave my wild notes a place to land. I sang to the clouds, yes, but only because I felt your silence listening. You were a steady vessel, holding every fragile line before it fell to pieces. If I was the song, you were the air that carried it; if I was the storm, you were the earth below. You drank the heavy skies without asking for a single drop in return. You speak of the rain bird waiting for the storm, but forget that even the bird looks for a twin. Without your wings beside me, the sky is only endless altitude, cold and pathless. I did not teach the tide to rise- it was your unseen gravity that pulled the deep out of me. I did not become the storm alone; it was your emptiness that called the water down. Do not call yourself merely the wind beneath my flight, or the silence between my notes. You are the tonic key on which the whole symphony rests. If my voice trembled, it was only resolving back to your root. If I circ...

  A person enters this world carrying debts, spends a lifetime trying to repay them, and leaves it with some debts forever unpaid. Debt came uninvited into my door, A silent blessing wrapped in war; Fate placed it gently in my hand, To teach me how alone to stand. It was not born of reckless pride, Nor foolish dreams I chose to ride; It was the cost of holding high A life that would not bow or die. The empty stomach owes no gold, The idle heart no burden holds; For those who carry none to feed, No creditor records their need. Then who is debtor, if not I- Who begs for hope beneath the sky? When desperate hands reach out for bread, Fine words are left unsaid instead. Philosophies fall faint and still, Before the urgency of will; For hunger speaks with louder breath Than every polished truth on earth. My wants are countless as the sand That slips unnoticed through the hand; Yet I know well, when all is done, I'll leave this world with carrying none. A handful of dust is all I'll ...

  There is no end to waiting in this life; It stretches far beyond the fading line, Wearing the quiet smile that conquers strife, A gentle spark that makes the darkness shine. Perhaps it is fate’s gentle, sweet deceit, To warm the weary heart when night is deep, With soft rays of tomorrow incomplete, Promising truths the quiet soul can keep. We wait for love, for safety in the cold, For one kind hand to reach across the space, To understand the stories left untold, And wipe the subtle shadows from our face. The thirsty rainbird waits upon the bough, While tiny seeds sleep deep beneath the sand, Trusting a sky they cannot see right now, To bring the rain and blossom on the land. My soul, too, waits for its own hidden birth, To break the stillness of a darkened room; Though ages pass and wander through the earth, Every long night awaits a morning bloom. Our parents waited for us long ago, Before we ever knew or spoke their names; Now in our quiet hours, we seek to know The warmth tha...

  Not every smile is a harbour of peace, nor every curved lip a haven of love. Some gleam like light upon polished steel, a brilliant shield for the storm above. *** They are sharpened slowly, like hidden blades, forged in the dark of a quiet mind, bending their edges with subtle grace to veil the shadows that wait behind. *** I do not fear the loud, hollow laugh; for noise is the currency fools employ. Wisdom walks softly through the dust of time, while silence unmakes what words destroy. *** And so I wait for another dawn, when the mask you wear has fallen away, arriving like morning over the hills, where mercy, not pride, commands the day. *** When your smile returns without its armour, carrying mercy instead of pride, and gentle grace outlives every victory, with nothing left to defend or hide. *** On that day my eyes will gather rain- not for the sorrows we chose to keep, but for the quiet relief of finding a man no longer pretending it never weeps. *** Yet nights still come w...

  I was born from the same dark, tender womb That carried every child into the light, Yet at the third sharp turn into the gloom, My mind abandoned their accepted sight. They drew a narrow map and called it sane, Demanding every spirit trace its lines; Because I wandered through a wilder plain, They crowned my heavy head with tragic signs. The children met my steps with heavy stone, And tore the frayed and thin cloth from my skin; They mocked the fractured world I called my own, And in their cruel joy, I joined within. For laughter is the final, desperate shield A wounded soul will wear before the night, Before it surrenders to the battlefield And remembers how to weep away the light. My wild sobs traveled far beyond my feet; The listening hills gave back my lonely cry. The wind responded down the empty street, Yet human hearts looked on and passed me by. They crossed the road to flee my passing shade, As though a shattered mind could touch their own; It was not madness making them...