PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I stand on a shore so small

the maps forget to name it,

watching the tide pull away

like a curtain from the stage of the stars.

Out there, the galaxies turn without

noticing us —

a slow dance in a hall we will never cross.

And yet, here,

on this blue backwater of a world,

we carry the strange right to ask

what the dance is for.

We sift the sand for patterns,

read the wind for syllables,

as if the hidden were a letter

addressed to whoever dares to open it.

.

Perhaps the center of the cosmos

is not a place,

but the moment a question

finds its voice.

.