Life

What a tragedy, when gazed upon— a shadowed tale, here then gone. You start with a whisper, a breath of grace, then vanish, leaving not a trace. It made me weep by candle’s flame, it made me mourn without a name. Yet oh, what a teacher life became— it lit the faces I thought were the same. It yearned to scream but lacked a breath, it ached for voice, entombed in death. But must one speak to stir the skies? Even silence knows how to rise. It let us craft our fleeting days, in sunlit halls and silver haze— only to show, with cruel delight, that all we made would fade to night. It let success touch us in the dark, a phantom’s kiss, a secret mark— but let failure strike beneath the light, where watchers feast on others' plight. And what, dear soul, did you believe when life began its whispered grieve? You crush the quiet, for profit’s sake— you murder silence, wide awake.