Poetry

Whisper of Stillness 

In the hush where the sky meets itself,
a river cradles the weight of stars,
its surface bare of names—
only the quiet ache of being whole.

The air hums, golden and unseen,
each breath a lullaby,
each moment soft as shadows
on the edge of dawn.

Peace is not conquest,
but surrender to what is—
a barefoot dance turning echoes to silence,
silence to home,
where the mind becomes sky,
holding nothing,
and in that nothing,
everything.
©️anie

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