Hidden Rabies

-

 


Hidden dogs roam every road beneath the sun

Their restless barking fills the evening air

We see their teeth and hear their warning growls

So careful feet can pass the dusty path


But some dark creatures hide beyond our sight

Like sudden lightning striking from the void

They leap unseen and bite the trembling flesh

Then fade again inside the silent shade


Such rabid hearts run fast through shadowed lanes

They carry death within their restless breath

A storm of rage that no one hears or sees

Until the wound appears upon the soul


Among the crowds some human faces smile

Yet deep inside their silent venom sleeps

They wait like hunters buried in the dark

For one brief chance to strike a fragile life


Their hidden war is waged in quiet minds

No barking warns the traveler on the road

They walk with us like ordinary souls

But storms of ruin gather in their chest


They harm another with a sudden blow

Yet walk beside their own approaching grave

For those who live to wound the world in hate

Already march within the arms of death.


Let wisdom guide the steps along the road

Not every smile reveals a gentle heart

Beware the silence hiding cruel intent

For unseen fangs may strike the careless soul.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

No Season to Stay

-
Image
  No Season to Stay ...................................... In the ashen hush of dawn, where smoke supplants the mist, I stand-rooted in a silence no longer innocent. / I ask myself- what, in this fractured earth, still belongs to me? / Are these roots an inheritance, or a quiet sentence I was never meant to escape? / Seasons once arrived as gentle confessions- now they stagger through ruin, indistinguishable from grief. Did they ever intend to remain, or was I the one who believed in their return? / I have bloomed beneath borrowed skies, unaware they would one day burn. Was that light ever mine, or merely a fleeting mercy before the fire? / The wind no longer carries whispers- only the residue of endings. If it scatters what I am, what, then, is left of me? / Rain falls, but not to cleanse- it mingles with dust and memory. If it can blur even the ground I stand on, was this place ever certain? / When distance grows between lives, is it loss- or the only language survival understand...
Read more

The Architect of Scars

-
Image
  The Architect of Scars **** ***** ***** ***** **** The tree does not become shade until a burning sun stands overhead. The stars do not become guides until the night surrenders to darkness. ****  The mountain does not boast of its height until the valley is cast in its shadow. The river does not sing of its strength until it meets the stone that would stop it. ****  We are built of what we have weathered; the glass is forged in the furnace, the diamond is born of the weight that the earth refused to lift. ****  Forgiveness is a word without a voice until the wrong has been done. Patience is a ghost in the hallway until the clock refuses to strike the hour. ****  We look for the sunrise not because dawn is beautiful, but because the cold has settled in our bones. We reach for the hand not because we are weak, but because the path has grown too narrow to walk alone. ****  So let the wind howl against the timber; it is only then the roots learn to grip. Let ...
Read more

Sixteen Days

-
Image
Sixteen days have passed in pain, Time moves slow like endless rain. Walls still stand, but feel so bare, Since I cannot find you there. Morning comes, but feels so weak, Your soft voice I still do seek. Used to wake with gentle call, Now there’s silence in it all. In the kitchen, still and cold, Lives the warmth the past once told. Old stone mortar waits for you, Like it knows what it must do. Pestle rests; it does not sing, Missing hands that life would bring. Pressure cooker, silent, still, Has not whistled by your will. Washing stone has lost its cry, Cloths lie still and left to dry. After beats your hands once gave, Now it rests, so cold, so grave. Tap has learned to not let flow; Water waits, but does not go. Like it knows you’re not around, So it holds its silent sound. Well rope hangs; it does not cry, Pulley still-no creak, no sigh. Every corner feels this loss; Silent hearts no words can cross. Pills and syrups, lined in rows, Swallowed all the healing hopes. Bot...
Read more

Sorrowed Bangles

-
Image
I have heard defeat arrive not as thunder- but like a snake in dry grass, hissing through slander. / When they could not touch my thought, they reached for my skin, as crows peck at ripe fruit they could never grow. / My name was held to fire like thin gold over flame, tested not for truth but for how much pain it could carry. / I have seen honor hung on women like glass bangles on trembling wrists- bright as festival light, fragile as a lie repeated too long. / And when a man stood like a mountain against the storm of lesser minds, they did not move the mountain- they poisoned the river at its feet, naming his women as weakness. / How strange this old world is: shame circles women like vultures around harvest fields, while pride wears a man’s face but hides in a woman’s wound. / I have known insults that crawled like smoke under doors, sexual words flung like mud at a temple wall, character torn as dogs worry at burial cloth. / But I have learned- when they strike the body because the...
Read more

When the Dawn Bell Speaks

-
Image
  I hear a whisper in the dawn, a silent chime within my soul- a voice so faint, yet carrying on, a call that makes the broken whole. When the bell begins to speak, its echo travels far and wide; it touches hearts both strong and weak, and stirs the quietness inside. It tells of hope amid my fears, a gentle nudge to rise again; reminding me through fleeting tears that loss and love are not in vain. Sometimes it rings in tender grace, a warning in my restless mind- to cherish every fleeting face, and leave no love behind. For every life is bound to life, in joy, in sorrow, in the night; the world is stitched through peace and strife with threads unseen, yet holding tight. I feel it in the pulse of days, a rhythm steady, soft, and true- a call that guides me through the maze to be both brave and gentle too. So when that distant bell resounds, I listen with my heart’s full might- for in its trembling, timeless rounds, I’m part of something vast and bright.   And though it ne...
Read more

I Dwell in an Imaginary Couple System

-
Image
I profess to the world that I am unbound, a solitary wanderer in the landscape of life. Yet my mind has never truly been free. It has always harbored a “you,” a constant gravity I orbit without ever admitting the truth aloud. You are not mere fantasy- you are a precise architecture of my longing. You arrive in subtle gestures, a smile across pixels, a voice remembered in silence, an understanding that requires no exposition. Before I realize, you have insinuated yourself into my rhythms, becoming the first thought in the morning, the quiet anchor before sleep. I tell myself, perhaps convincingly, that this is harmless, ephemeral, that I am unclaimed, untethered. But the system is cunning. It entwines my consciousness around someone who owes me nothing, who exists in real life and in my mind simultaneously. It rewards me with ecstasy, with inexplicable delight at the simplest exchange, and punishes me with anxiety, jealousy, and silent yearning for moments that may never manifest. I rev...
Read more

The Taste and Texture of Us

-
Image
The quiet hush of morning, I watch her rise, Life shared between us, beneath familiar skies. Some days are sweet, laughter spilling over tea, Other days bitter, sharp words from both you and me. Her touch is tender, soft as velvet on my skin, Chewy challenges test us, patience worn thin. I fold forgiveness slowly, like dough in my hands, She spreads understanding, gentle as shifting sands. Shadows of old arguments sometimes remain, Crunchy pride breaks slowly, leaving small strain. Yet even in friction, a subtle flavor shows, A depth of love only our years could compose. In early days, love was fresh, bright, and new, Tangy surprises danced between us, spark and hue. Her laughter a fizz of champagne, wild and free, My heart, smooth chocolate, melting in company. We tasted adventures, sweet, bitter, and rare, Learning together, testing, daring to care. Even the tang of mistakes, the grit of our flaws, Added depth, seasoning life without pause. Then came seasons of weight, of stress and ...
Read more

The Last and Only

-
Image
  You think you are the first, loud and shown, But I am the last one and only, alone. I don’t chase crowns or beg to be seen, I walk my path-steady, sharp, and clean. *** No echoes I follow, no shadows I trace, I carve my own ending, I set my own pace. Where others seek glory, I simply endure, Complete in myself-final, certain, and sure.
Read more

The Lament of Unseen Sorrows

-
Image
Upon the silent edge I found her grace, No pallid shroud, nor clanking of a chain, But lullabies enwoven in her face, And ancient sorrow folded in her pain. She spake, "I am the shade of what untold, The grief unchristened, by the world unnamed. 'Postpartum,' they did call it, swift and cold, As if mere time such anguish had contained." No chilling draft, no whisper on the air, Yet felt I then the burden of her sight. She told of children, vanished past compare, Not lost to earth, but cradled from the light. For strangled dreams, ere breath their being drew, And joy, in infancy, by hands unseen, Were offerings given, bitter, stark, and true, The death of futures, where no light had been. "These are the ones no burial rites attend," She murmured low, "Thus must I ever bear." "Dear Jayan," once she breathed, "unto the end, I rode unseen, a shadow in your care. You turned not 'round, but hastened on your way,...
Read more

The Compass Lost

-
Image
  The heart—a compass, wildly spun, By passion's tide and tempers run— It pointed me to fleeting flame, A joy too quick, a selfish game. You stood there, child in tender hold, I should’ve listened, should’ve told My pride to bow, my voice to still— But I let impulse have its will. Your friends stood near, their eyes like glass, And in that heat, I let it pass— A slap. Not hard. But loud, and wrong. A moment short, a silence long. And reason watched from far away, It saw the price I’d have to pay. It saw the crack inside the core, The man you loved, now something more— More cruel, more small, less brave, less true, The kind of man who hurt you. I wanted then to make it right, To speak, to kneel, to end the fight. But pride, that wall I wouldn’t breach, Stood taller than my need to reach. You know that feeling? That public fall? That instant shame, in front of all? I tried to form the words—but no. I let you turn. I let you go. And time, the slow and steady judge, Now pushes truth li...
Read more