The mountain never bowed to applause, Nor did the river pause for tears. The sky has carried a thousand storms Without remembering a single face. You are a traveler, not the road. A heartbeat, not the clock. The world was already speaking Long before it learned your name. Some goodbyes bloom from seasons, Not from mistakes. Some distances are drawn by time, Not by the hands that reach across them. Don't make yourself the author Of every unfinished sentence. Some pages are left blank Because silence belongs there. There is a strange mercy In not standing at the center Of every ending, Of every change. The sun does not rise to prove a point. The stars do not dim to send a message. Life simply unfolds, Wild, indifferent, beautiful. So carry your kindness, Leave your footprints lightly, And when the world turns without asking, Smile. It's not about you. That's how it is. © 2026 Gloria Penelope
Lower your voice
We are not your mates.
This is not your house,
and your echo does not own the walls.
Your pride towers beyond measure,
standing where humility never learned to breathe.
You wear power like a weapon,
swinging it in every room you enter,
mistaking fear for respect.
Your pride is loud,
loud like violence
not always striking,
but always threatening.
It bruises the air,
forces silence to bow.
Power has fooled you,
convinced you that command is character,
That volume is authority,
that dominance is destiny.
Do not teach us
that the world is brutal
because you choose to be.
Cruelty is not nature;
It is a decision you make daily.
Lower your voice.
Strength does not shout.
True power stands still,
and needs no one to kneel.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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