Not gently, not this time. No mercy lay upon the scale, no softening of what was sown. This is the hour when silence breaks its patience, When consequence walks in without knocking. Where hands once dealt in harm, they now tremble under a weight unseen. Where laughter rose from others’ pain, it echoes back, hollow, unforgiving. No mercy to be given here. Not where darkness was chosen with open eyes. Karma does not shout, does not warn, does not bargain. It arrives as steady as breath, as certain as time, collecting every unpaid debt. Where cruelty once stood tall, It bends. Where innocence was crushed, The earth remembers. And in that remembering, justice forms, not in anger, But in balance. For life has its own design, its quiet reckoning, its unseen hand that writes the end of every deed. Call it fate, call it truth, call it what it is, Karma. © 2026 Gloria Penelope
Not gently,
not this time.
No mercy lay upon the scale,
no softening of what was sown.
This is the hour
when silence breaks its patience,
When consequence walks in
without knocking.
Where hands once dealt in harm,
they now tremble under a weight unseen.
Where laughter rose from others’ pain,
it echoes back, hollow, unforgiving.
No mercy to be given here.
Not where darkness was chosen
with open eyes.
Karma does not shout,
does not warn,
does not bargain.
It arrives
as steady as breath,
as certain as time,
collecting every unpaid debt.
Where cruelty once stood tall,
It bends.
Where innocence was crushed,
The earth remembers.
And in that remembering,
justice forms,
not in anger,
But in balance.
For life has its own design,
its quiet reckoning,
its unseen hand
that writes the end of every deed.
Call it fate,
call it truth,
call it what it is,
Karma.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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