Silent Shadows of Sorrow

In the realm of quietude, where echoes fade,

Reside the silent shadows, in sorrow's shade.

They dance with grace, in twilight's tender hour,

A tale untold, they bear a heavy bower.

Beneath the weeping willow's somber sweep,

They gather, like phantoms, in secrets they keep.

Their hearts, once vibrant, now echo hollow,

Bound to the night, in the silent shadows.

Each step they take, a whisper in the breeze,

A symphony of sighs, a mournful frieze.

Their eyes, like pools, reflecting distant stars,

Hold galaxies of pain, old battle scars.

The moon, their solace, in silver sheen,

Illumines paths to places seldom seen.

Yet even in its gentle, tender glow,

The silent shadows find no place to go.

Their veils of sorrow, like a shroud, they wear,

A cloak of ache, a burden hard to bear.

Yet in their stillness, there's a quiet power,

A strength in sorrow, like a wilting flower.

For deep within the heart of every woe,

There lies a seed of strength that starts to grow.

From silent shadows, courage takes its form,

And in their depths, resilience is born.

They teach us, in their wordless, mournful way,

That even in the dark, there's light to sway.

For sorrow, though it wraps us in its might,

Can lead us to a dawn, a hopeful sight.

So let us not shun shadows' gentle call,

Embrace their presence, for they teach us all.

That strength can rise from sorrow's tender plea,

And in the quiet, we can find the key.

To unlock doors to realms we've yet to see,

And set our weary hearts forever free.

For in the silent shadows, we may find,

The seeds of hope that heal the wounded mind.