A fleeting truth, a lasting shame.
The Pegasus rides through storms of wrath,
But leaves no light along its path.
The bullet flew twice, and still it flies,
Through fractured hearts, through silent skies.
For truth may burn, or truth may heal,
Yet its wounds remain, forever real.
“Diary, … Grief has a voice that no one hears, yet its whispers linger in the depths of our eyes.”
She sat by the window, serene yet pained,
Her silken gown with moonlight stained.
A thread unraveled, caught mid-air,
As shadows wove through her auburn hair.
Her sapphire gaze, deep and wide,
Held secrets only stars confide.
A single tear refused to fall,
A silent sentinel through it all.
“Forgive me,” she whispered, soft and clear,
“To the winds that carry my lingering fear.
Forgive the sorrow I did not choose,
Forgive the hope I dared to lose.
For in the depths of night, I grieve,
A thousand truths I cannot weave.
I mourn not him, but dreams betrayed,
A fragile life that could not stay.
I sought his voice, his steady hand,
But he walks now in another land.
Was it my heart, too proud, too still,
That let the echoes break my will?
Oh heavens, vast, unyielding, cold,
Do you mock my tears with tales untold?
Do you scatter dreams like brittle glass,
Leaving splinters where love might pass?
I wear no shame, though grief is mine,
It shapes my soul, its aching shrine.
I do not weep for what is gone,
But for the silence, now withdrawn.
For his absence carves a sacred space,
A quiet, hallowed, timeless grace.
No blame, no anger, no regret,
But a love unspoken, quietly met.”
The dawn crept in with gentle light,
Its golden hues dispelling night.
And though her sorrow did not fade,
Her spirit stood, unbent, unfrayed.
For honour lies in bearing pain,
With dignity that does not wane.
And through her tears, the world could see,
The strength of her eternity.
YOU CAME TO ME IN THE DAWN
“Dreams speak the language of the soul, and sometimes, their voices call us to truths we dare not face…”
You came to me in the dawn of light,
A phantom, weaving through the night.
A tender fire, a fleeting flame,
I wished to hold you, call your name.
Yet you, an ember, distant, dim,
Slipped through the folds of my fragile whim.
In the haze of sleep, your visage stayed,
A bittersweet ghost, a love betrayed.
If only, I thought, your heart were real,