The Weight of Ages: Modern Sonnets - страница 9

And whisper secrets to the sleeping land.

A timeless solace in the endless night,

A guiding hand, a comfort close at hand.

Your mystic glow inspires poets' quill,

And lovers' hearts with tender feelings stirred.

A celestial pearl, serene and still,

Your beauty reigns, forever to be heard.

So, shine on, moon, and cast your gentle light,

And banish darkness with your radiant might.

A tiny fist, a face contorted red,

A sound that shatters silence, sharp and keen.

A universe of needs yet to be said,

Expressed in wails, a primal, raw routine.

No words are formed, no sentence takes its shape,

But hunger, fear, or loneliness declare

Within that cry, a desperate escape

From shadows looming, or from empty air.

A parent's heart leaps forth to understand,

To soothe the tremour in that fragile plea,

To cradle close, a helping, loving hand.

And in the rocking, find tranquility.

The crying fades, a sigh escapes at last,

A peaceful slumber, troubles overcast.

Within these pages, wisdom softly sleeps,

Awaiting eyes that seek its gentle light.

No voice proclaims, yet knowledge deeply leaps,

And shadows fade before its burning bright.

Through tales of old, and truths forever new,

We glimpse the world in all its vibrant hue.

From sorrow's depths to triumphs strong and true,

We learn to judge, to ponder, and pursue.

Each turning leaf, a journey to unfold,

A tapestry of thoughts, both bold and mild.

The secrets held, more precious far than gold,

A fertile ground for reason, meek and wild.

So, open wide these doors to realms unseen,

And find yourself, where understanding's keen.

In realms of hush, where shadows softly creep,

A symphony unheard, a muted plea,

The sound of silence, secrets it does keep,

A vast expanse of tranquil mystery.

No bustling noise, no clamour to be found,

Just stillness deep, a solace for the soul,

Where introspection's seeds take fertile ground,

And stories in the quiet start to roll.

The world may rush, a tempest in its prime,

But in the pause, a different strength we find,

A gentle echo resonating time,

Leaving bustling thoughts far behind.

So, listen close, perhaps you'll understand,

The potent language spoken by the land.

The clock ticks on, a steady, rhythmic beat,

But heed it not, let worries fade away.