We create from the empty space with shaky hands.
Filling up nothingness that no one can explain.
Our thoughts turn into bridges, weak yet real.
Crossing places only we can see.
No group can see the worlds we build.
No voice can hear the ideas we feel.
Each line is a beat, each mark is a fire.
A hidden universe with no name to share.
We control the silence to our own design.
Changing empty space into something designed.
In that quiet, we are the true leaders.
Silent builders of a dream that's real.
About the Creator
Emily
Poem lover, word collector, and believer in the quiet magic of language. I write to remember, to heal, and to find beauty in the spaces between silence and sound. Every poem is a heartbeat — a small proof that feelings can become art.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.