There is a place inside you No map has ever traced, a quiet room behind the ribs where light forgets to stay. No one sees it when you smile, No one hears it when you speak. It moves beneath your laughter like a river running deep. It is yours alone to carry, not carved for other hands, a language made of silence Only your soul understands. Some mornings it is heavier, a stone you cannot name, And still you rise and wear your life as if it were the same. But pain, it does not leave you when ignored or pushed away, it waits within the folds of time, it learns you day by day. It is not your enemy, though it cuts without a sound; it is the truth you buried but still lives underground. And yes, there are nights it breaks you, when endurance feels too wide, when even breath feels borrowed And there is nowhere left to hide. Yet somehow you continue, not because you do not fall, but because within the breaking You still answer life’s call. You learn to walk beside it, not beneath it, not above...
Time slips softly through our hands,
Between the tasks we rush to do,
Measured not by clocks or days,
But how we live, and what we choose.
It hides inside our daily plans,
In hurried steps and shallow breath,
We spend it as if it were endless,
Unaware it walks with death.
Tomorrow stands behind a veil,
A mystery no soul can read,
Destiny writes in hidden ink,
Unseen paths our feet may lead.
Life unfolds like whispered truth,
One moment clear, the next unknown,
A fragile flame that dances bright,
Yet knows it’s never fully owned.
For any day may be the last,
Any night may close the door,
Time does not ask for permission—
It simply moves, then moves no more.
So hold your moments gently now,
Speak the love you mean to say,
For life is brief, and time is shy,
And mystery decides the day.
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
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