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.
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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.
...

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.
...

(Inspired by Ralph Waldo Emerson's words)

Write it on your heart, a golden decree,
Each day a jewel, let it glimmer free.
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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.
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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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Oh, the magic of Christmas, so tender and bright,
A season of wonder, of joy, and delight.
When snowflakes fall soft, and the world wears a glow,
In hearts and in homes, love's warmth starts to grow.
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There is a voice not of syllables or sound,
not of vowels stitched to breath,
it hides in the pulse beneath your skin,
it hums in the marrow of mountains split open
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Oh, sacred night of joy and cheer,
When hearts grow warm, and love draws near,
The yuletide flame, a tender light,
Illumines homes in winter's night.
...

The clock ticks closer, its hands align,
To mark the threshold, a sacred line.
A year once weary fades to mist,
As hope ignites in a joyful twist.
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This is how you find your way,
Through shadows thick and skies of gray.
If you never try, you'll never see
The boundless strength that sets you free.
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Two shadows linger where the soul does dwell,
Each whispers truths, yet which shall we compel?
One wears the cloak of hope, a boundless sky,
The other drapes in storms, where doubts reside.
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Love rests on no foundation, no stone, no earth, no clay,
No pillar carved by mortal hands, no form that fades away.
It floats upon the endless sea, a tide that knows no shore,
An open sky, eternal blue, forever, evermore.
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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.
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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.
...