In the stillness where shadows play,
Echoes of the past find their way.
Moments tangled in threads of gold,
Stories forgotten, yet never old.
The mirror speaks in a voiceless hue,
Reflecting truths both sharp and true.
What we were, and what we’ve become,
A tapestry woven by days undone.
The roads we chose, the ones we fled,
The words unspoken, the tears we shed.
Each fleeting joy, each lingering ache,
The fragile steps we dared to take.
Time, a sculptor with patient hands,
Carves the soul as it understands.
Each line, a lesson, each scar, a guide,
To the depths where wisdom and wonder abide.
So here I stand, neither lost nor whole,
A seeker wandering within my soul.
For in reflection, I’ve come to see,
The quiet truth: I am simply me.
---Matthew
Add comment
Comments