PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Beneath the thunder of our words,

a softer voice lies trembling,

not anger, but ache,

not fire, but the faint glow

of a heart wanting to be seen.

Each clash, a coded psalm,

a plea wearing armour,

the soul’s shy hand reaching out

through the smoke of misunderstanding.

We do not battle to win,

we battle to be held.

What sounds like conflict

is the sound of loneliness breaking open,

of love knocking against its own walls,

of yearning dressed in defiance.

So let us listen

not to the sharpness of tongues,

but to the hush between them,

where the true words live:

choose me,

consider me,

understand me,

accept me.

For every argument is a secret altar,

and beneath it burns

the quiet, stubborn fire

of our longing to belong.

The cosmos breathes through your silken thread,

A shimmer stitched where starlight treads,

Each breath you take, a hush, a spark,

A song begun within the dark.

You walk, a lantern born of flame,

Yet hold no boast, nor cry your name;

The hush of galaxies leans in,

To hear your soul’s light stir the wind.

You are not small, though stars are grand,

You are the pulse in the sky’s own hand.

A symphony that dares to rise,

From silence, into sacred skies.

Let morning crown your brow with fire,

And let your gaze the heavens inspire,

For God in shadow, dust, and hue,

Finds voice and rhythm, here, in you.