The Quiet That Remains Poem by ashok jadhav

I move through days as though the world is dim,
Each color muted, every sound restrained.
The heart that once leapt at a simple touch
Now beats with measured, almost hollow pulse.
Desire flickers, faint, then fades again,
And even grief seems distant, not my own.
I speak, but words escape without their weight;
I listen, but the voices fail to pierce.
The hours stretch, indifferent to my drift,
And solitude becomes a kind of veil.
Yet in this numbness lies a fragile truth:
The self persists, though dulled, and still endures.
Perhaps from restlessness will rise release,
Or feeling return in its patient time.
For now, I walk within this quiet space,
Carrying the shadow of my own stillness.