In the hush of dawn's first light,
Where shadows dance with day,
A world awakens, soft and bright,
In hues of gold and gray.
Whispers weave through whispering trees,
As leaves in silence fall,
The breeze a tender, fleeting tease,
A secret to enthrall.
Mountains rise in ancient grace,
Their peaks kiss skies so wide,
A tranquil, timeless, sacred space,
Where dreams and earth collide.
Rivers carve their winding song,
Through valleys lush and green,
A melody that flows along,
In nature's grand serene.
Stars that twinkle in the night,
A canvas dark and deep,
Stories told in silver light,
As we in wonder sleep.
Hearts that beat with fervent fire,
With hopes and love anew,
In the realm of soul's desire,
Where wishes can come true.
Life, a fleeting, precious dance,
In moments small and grand,
A journey filled with fleeting chance,
Through sea, and sky, and land.
So let us wander, wild and free,
With courage, joy, and grace,
Embrace the world, its mystery,
And find our sacred place.
About the Creator
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making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskara day ago in Feast
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