You laugh at them. You point your finger and call them a fool. Their silence amuses you, their gentleness becomes your joke, and the crowd joins your laughter as if kindness were weakness. It feels enjoyable today, sweet on your tongue like careless victory. Their patience becomes your stage, their humility your entertainment. But time is a quiet witness. It watches without speaking, It writes its lessons slowly in the turning pages of life. A day will come When laughter turns into tears. The echoes of your mockery will return to your own ears like thunder across an empty sky. Situations will arise without warning, storms without hands to beat you Yet heavy enough to break your pride. Pain will arrive quietly, And you will feel the trembling of a heart that once laughed too loudly. And that fool, that funny person you once mocked, may stand in the distance, not laughing, but witnessing your tears, your shaking voice, Your falling ego. For life has a patient way of bending the tallest p...
The curtain of death hangs heavy and black, Is it a veil, or a door unseen? It sways in silence, waiting still, Between the worlds we’ve known and been. Just when the days feel safe and whole, When laughter learns to settle in, It falls without a warning sound And claims a name, a face, a kin. One chair grows cold. One voice goes still. A room forgets a familiar breath. We stand in shock, our questions raw, Staring into the cloth of death. Why is it cruel? Why no delay? No borrowed days, no gifted years? Why does it close without a choice? Unmoved by love, untouched by tears? It does not ask. It does not pause. It does not count the prayers we say. It chooses from the ones we love And draws them suddenly away. Families fracture in its wake, Time stumbles, hearts forget their beat, And still the curtain never parts To show us where the souls retreat. We only know it falls when it will, On whom it wills, in quiet breath, Leaving us here with empty hands And questions sewn in cloths...