Savva Emanon

In shadows cast by time's relentless hand,
Where whispers of the past and future blend,
I tread a path few hearts can understand,
In solitude, where weary spirits mend.
...

A love so deep, the universe cannot contain,
In realms where stars and galaxies remain.
Beyond the stretch of time, in endless night,
It shimmers like the moon's eternal light.
...

In shadows cast by judgments, walk unshaken,
For whispers of others hold no claim on thee.
Be the wellspring where your joy awakens,
A lighthouse steadfast by your own decree.
...

In the quiet of twilight, when thoughts softly stray,
I find myself often in a curious delay.
The train of my musings, swift and free,
Embarks on its journey, sometimes without me.
...

In a world so vast and yet so solitary,
Where shadows stretch and echoes tarry,
Sometimes all we truly need, it seems,
Is one person to anchor our dreams.
...

(Inspired by Ralph Waldo Emerson's words)

Write it on your heart, a golden decree,
Each day a jewel, let it glimmer free.
...

I have walked through evenings bent with silence,
where the hush of the streetlamp hums my name,
a hero, perhaps, in the whisper of one,
a villain in the frown of another.
...

Awake, dear soul, as the dawn softly calls,
Through the veil of the night, the light gently falls.
With whispers of purpose, the morning begins,
A sacred refrain from the depths within.
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When the weight of the world wraps tight round your chest,
And the days blur with ache, with no time to rest.
When the mind is a maze, and the breath feels thin,
And life drums too loud beneath trembling skin.
...

I do not know what waits beyond
This pale horizon's shifting seam,
The road is fog, the stars are gone,
Yet still I follow some old dream.
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I close the book, its spine sighs shut,
the whisper of a thousand nights drawn in.
A chapter folds like hands in prayer,
but not all endings are so clean.
...

What if I told you, in hush not heard, but felt,
That the ache you name as longing
is the echo of a promise kept?
Not in some far-off fortune,
...

There were words I loosed like doves in flame,
Believing then they sang my name.
They circled truths I thought were stone,
But time has taught me bone is bone.
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They do not speak of dying,
not in the quiet grocery line,
not beneath the flicker of café lights,
not when the sky loosens its robe of stars,
...

I'd cut my soul, oh yes, my soul,
into a million glimmering shards of fire,
and fling them skyward with trembling hands
to form a constellation you might name Desire.
...

I am but a fleeting phrase, a sentence in your tome,
A whisper in your journey, where countless voices roam.
Yet, in my quiet brevity, a universe took flight,
Filling shelves of boundless thought in the corridors of night.
...

Pain is not a fleeting shadow,
nor a thief that steals in the night.
It settles deep, like roots in earth,
clutching marrow, dimming light.
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Tender thread that binds the heart so tight,
Yet loosens in the quiet of the night.
A trembling breath, a raw, unguarded gaze,
Where shadows dance in vulnerability's haze.
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Those clouds of life, how they gather near,
Carrying whispers of joy and fear.
Billowing dreams in the vast unknown,
Soft as a sigh, or sharp as a stone.
...

(The Weightless Dawn)

Oh, anxious heart, so tight in its hold,
A whispering storm, both silent and bold.
...