Whispers of Stillness

 

In twilight’s hush, I wander through the deep,

Where shadows whisper secrets that they keep;

Thin threads of memory murmur as they glide,

A tapestry of echoes left behind.

The mornings rose with soft, ascendant light,

Where dreams took wing in easy, boundless flight;

Bare childhood feet ran wild through emerald grace,

When time bowed gently to the heart’s embrace.

But now my children walk a different way-

A world composed of ever-bright display;

Their steps are shaped by unseen, flowing streams,

Entangled in the web of crafted dreams.

They race through days that rush and overtake,

Drawn by delights that shimmer as they break;

Through subtle thrills their quiet centers fade-

New charms conceal the cost those choices made.

The pull of screens exerts its silent might,

Shifting desire and hastening their flight;

It drives them forward, though their hearts aren’t set,

In worlds where speed is constant and unmet.

A heavy truth now settles in my soul:

That I have turned to relic, text, and scroll-

A witness to a gentler, slower age,

Outpaced by life’s relentless, hurried stage.

Yet still I hope their spirits find a place

Untouched by frenzy’s ever-quickening chase;

Where breath draws clean, unwritten by demands,

And nature’s ancient song rests in their hands.

I long to teach the art of stillness deep,

The strength found only where the silence sleeps;

The will to pause, to truly learn to see,

The quiet wisdom in simplicity.

To bless the dark that gathers soft and wide,

And find the spark that hums from deep inside;

For even night reveals a tender light,

A steadfast warmth within the gentle night.

And when they glance behind with softened pride,

May they recall the roots that did reside;

The courage born from choosing when to stay,

To find themselves within the world’s dismay.

I plant small seeds of patience in the field,

Slow down my stride, and learn again to yield;

A soft revolt against the rising tide-

In humble acts, my deepest hopes abide.

For through these quiet, steady rebellions grown-

These turns from noise toward truths I’ve always known-

I dream of worlds renewed from living morn,

Where love speaks loud and silence is reborn.

Where wonder blooms without a guarded gate,

And life is lived, not chased or found too late-

A future bright with unconfined delight,

Held gently in the promise of its light.