azaharraza - Hello Poetry

Within the chest, lies the silence of centuries suppressed, In the strangled voice gather cries of hunger, silent lamentations, The creature transformed into machine, emotions erased in the ledger of numbers, In exchange for labor, the soul is plundered, in each breath coagulates resentment Beneath the ruins waits the imminent explosion. This wrath is not a fleeting storm, but fire of congealed blood, The eruption of fiery streams breaks the steel chains of exploitation, Slogans of rebellion are born in the scorched heart, Behind civilization’s golden mask perish countless lives, Lament transforms into expanding flames, soundless—the earth trembles. In the silent fire turn to ash the palaces of false opulence, with tears and breath, The stifled cries of hunger and poverty merge with the river’s current, In the scent of soil accumulates the vow of rebellion, the torch of fire, The expanding soundless revolt awakens blood within blood, Tears transform into the thunder’s roar history is inscribed in new struggles.

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May 20

May 20, 2026 at 6:21 PM UTC

The Expanding Fire of Soundless Revolt

Within the chest, lies the silence of centuries suppressed, In the strangled voice gather cries of hunger, silent lamentations, The creature transformed into machine, emotions erased in the ledger of numbers, In exchange for labor, the soul is plundered, in each breath coagulates resentment Beneath the ruins waits the imminent explosion. This wrath is not a fleeting storm, but fire of congealed blood, The eruption of fiery streams breaks the steel chains of exploitation, Slogans of rebellion are born in the scorched heart, Behind civilization’s golden mask perish countless lives, Lament transforms into expanding flames, soundless—the earth trembles. In the silent fire turn to ash the palaces of false opulence, with tears and breath, The stifled cries of hunger and poverty merge with the river’s current, In the scent of soil accumulates the vow of rebellion, the torch of fire, The expanding soundless revolt awakens blood within blood, Tears transform into the thunder’s roar history is inscribed in new struggles.

15

In a hidden realm beyond the edges of the world, There was once a kingdom called Shiro, A name whispered like forgotten memories in the wind, Life’s stories vanished into the void— As light as a bird’s feather in the shadow of the gray mountains, Like the pale sorrows that blanketed the kingdom’s edges. But Shiro, the child of a Phoenix, Stood on the unknown soil of those silent plains— Where winter leaves quietly fell, As if offering a secret sign of sorrow. Shiro knew the song of rebirth echoed deep within his heart, Where seeds of dreams were planted as the black night thickened. One day, beneath the gray sky, Shiro saw the fields of dreams— Everything was bathed in the quiet light of eternal stars. The stars called out to him, “This land will be born again from the womb of emptiness.” Shiro believed, even in the cold grip of death, That one day a flower of fire would bloom, That the storm of flames within him would rise again. And then, like a Phoenix, Shiro hid his old sorrows beneath his wings, The ashes of old dreams— From which the seeds of a new world would grow. Like a Phoenix, his past burned away, And a new life was born from the womb of emptiness. It seemed as if a song of fire burned in the air around him. So, was this fire always within him? Or was there a dormant dream hidden beneath the soil? Shiro asked this with every breath— In each sleepless night, his dreams played silent tunes, As if they knew his future. Shiro felt a new life rising from the earth, Before he turned to ashes, He planted the seeds of his life beneath the ground— Hidden beneath the wings of the Phoenix was a secret story, And under each feather lay fragments of dreams. In their shadow, he birthed a new history, As if he always knew his flame would never die. The stars once told Shiro, “You are eternal, like the rebirth of the Phoenix.” Shiro knew then that time would never touch him. Yet he would be born again, only to burn once more— In this cycle of rebirth, he would live immortal, As if he were a story carried on the winds of an ancient tale. And still, Shiro’s dreams remained silent, As if they were waiting for the seeds to be planted again, To build a new life under a new sun. Shiro asked himself, “What tune plays in this life, what dream floats in this world?” He found his answer within the shadows, Where the sky touched the earth, Where fire and shadow merged into one. Written on his Phoenix wings was a map of dreams— A map leading to a silent city, Where stardust floated in the air, And within each speck, a new world lay hidden. Shiro knew that within this world, There was always a fire of rebirth hidden deep. So, does everything come from fire? Or does something new begin from the ashes of every life? Shiro thought then that perhaps each of his dreams Would bloom again like a flower of fire, Burning away old memories, Giving birth to the shadow of a new day. And yet, within him, an immortal tune would always play— As if he had witnessed every birth of the world, As if he had seen every rebirth of the Phoenix. So, is the Phoenix’s seed like a dream? Hidden beneath the earth, Waiting for those who can only see the flowers of fire. One day, Shiro planted that seed, Where his flame and shadow merged. Then he knew that this world would never end— Life would be born again, from the ashes, And written on every Phoenix’s wing Would be a new story of dreams.

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Jan 8

Jan 8, 2026 at 5:20 PM UTC

The Rebirth of the Phoenix: Seeds of Dreams

In a hidden realm beyond the edges of the world, There was once a kingdom called Shiro, A name whispered like forgotten memories in the wind, Life’s stories vanished into the void— As light as a bird’s feather in the shadow of the gray mountains, Like the pale sorrows that blanketed the kingdom’s edges. But Shiro, the child of a Phoenix, Stood on the unknown soil of those silent plains— Where winter leaves quietly fell, As if offering a secret sign of sorrow. Shiro knew the song of rebirth echoed deep within his heart, Where seeds of dreams were planted as the black night thickened. One day, beneath the gray sky, Shiro saw the fields of dreams— Everything was bathed in the quiet light of eternal stars. The stars called out to him, “This land will be born again from the womb of emptiness.” Shiro believed, even in the cold grip of death, That one day a flower of fire would bloom, That the storm of flames within him would rise again. And then, like a Phoenix, Shiro hid his old sorrows beneath his wings, The ashes of old dreams— From which the seeds of a new world would grow. Like a Phoenix, his past burned away, And a new life was born from the womb of emptiness. It seemed as if a song of fire burned in the air around him. So, was this fire always within him? Or was there a dormant dream hidden beneath the soil? Shiro asked this with every breath— In each sleepless night, his dreams played silent tunes, As if they knew his future. Shiro felt a new life rising from the earth, Before he turned to ashes, He planted the seeds of his life beneath the ground— Hidden beneath the wings of the Phoenix was a secret story, And under each feather lay fragments of dreams. In their shadow, he birthed a new history, As if he always knew his flame would never die. The stars once told Shiro, “You are eternal, like the rebirth of the Phoenix.” Shiro knew then that time would never touch him. Yet he would be born again, only to burn once more— In this cycle of rebirth, he would live immortal, As if he were a story carried on the winds of an ancient tale. And still, Shiro’s dreams remained silent, As if they were waiting for the seeds to be planted again, To build a new life under a new sun. Shiro asked himself, “What tune plays in this life, what dream floats in this world?” He found his answer within the shadows, Where the sky touched the earth, Where fire and shadow merged into one. Written on his Phoenix wings was a map of dreams— A map leading to a silent city, Where stardust floated in the air, And within each speck, a new world lay hidden. Shiro knew that within this world, There was always a fire of rebirth hidden deep. So, does everything come from fire? Or does something new begin from the ashes of every life? Shiro thought then that perhaps each of his dreams Would bloom again like a flower of fire, Burning away old memories, Giving birth to the shadow of a new day. And yet, within him, an immortal tune would always play— As if he had witnessed every birth of the world, As if he had seen every rebirth of the Phoenix. So, is the Phoenix’s seed like a dream? Hidden beneath the earth, Waiting for those who can only see the flowers of fire. One day, Shiro planted that seed, Where his flame and shadow merged. Then he knew that this world would never end— Life would be born again, from the ashes, And written on every Phoenix’s wing Would be a new story of dreams.

77

The pain of discontent is not an instantaneous wound, but a silent, prolonged self-erosion, Within the inner magma of non-attainment, resentment ignites the fire of suppressed desire, In the abyss of demand, expectation, satisfaction an unattainable myth, Achievement carved on the white stone of incompleteness, the legend of a vanished civilization. In the inner-current of psychology, discontent is born from dream-broken womb-pain, Standing at the threshold, the soul at the dock of its own questionnaire, The heir of expectation, the matured grammar of non-attainment. In the ornamented poetry of socially-bound happiness, smiles imposed upon faces, Inside, the unspoken scripture of melancholy composed, paragraphs of guilt, Discontent, voiceless non-protest, the soul shattered, Doubt-stricken, exhausted in the dust-grey frontier of eroded faith

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Jan 8

Jan 8, 2026 at 5:18 PM UTC

Discontent in the inner-current of psychology

The pain of discontent is not an instantaneous wound, but a silent, prolonged self-erosion, Within the inner magma of non-attainment, resentment ignites the fire of suppressed desire, In the abyss of demand, expectation, satisfaction an unattainable myth, Achievement carved on the white stone of incompleteness, the legend of a vanished civilization. In the inner-current of psychology, discontent is born from dream-broken womb-pain, Standing at the threshold, the soul at the dock of its own questionnaire, The heir of expectation, the matured grammar of non-attainment. In the ornamented poetry of socially-bound happiness, smiles imposed upon faces, Inside, the unspoken scripture of melancholy composed, paragraphs of guilt, Discontent, voiceless non-protest, the soul shattered, Doubt-stricken, exhausted in the dust-grey frontier of eroded faith

11

In the empty garden of the inner world, the tree of thought grows from the seed of night, On the thorned tongues of venomous creatures smiles the pollen of deception, Jealousy is nurtured in artificiality, the child of malice sleeps in the cradle of cunning, Faith is torn apart by invisible claws the merciless deity of illusion, Slander becomes religion, division its mantra, and worship the ecstasy of another’s ruin, Touching the shadow of words, dead light descends upon the window of the mind. In the heat of arrogance fade the leaves of honesty, The masked soul searches for itself like a beggar, False ornaments, garments of deceit the light of forbidden truth, The courage to gaze dies, ashes of distrust gather in the chest, In laughter pierces the splinter of wounds, on the palm beats the soft drum of envy, Love is sold in palatable words, friendship built upon the sacrifice of betrayal, Serpents shed their skin in their eyes burns the fire of impure souls. Beneath the void sleeps an unfamiliar silence, the script of nightmares circles the face, Upon the mirror of conscience stains of hypocrisy, the reflection of truth distorted, Poison dwells in words, calculation in gaze, emotions crafted in factories of pretense, In dim utterances lies the imitation of remorse, wounds hidden behind illusion, Forgiveness an ornament, mercy an exhausted meaning, bowed honesty a gravestone. Inner world moonlight scorched by the heat of sin, rain fears to descend through the vapor of guilt, Eyes overflow with emptiness, the heart seeks some invisible bridge of deliverance, In the womb of darkness, in the valley of decay, is born the seed of light silent, endless, immortal, The seed, symbol of purification, finds creation in the flame of destruction, Man, weary wanderer of a long journey, walks against the shadow of his own self, Burning in fire, he awakens within his inner world, within his own thorny path.

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Nov 3, 2025

Nov 3, 2025 at 5:57 PM UTC

The Thorny Paths of the Inner World

In the empty garden of the inner world, the tree of thought grows from the seed of night, On the thorned tongues of venomous creatures smiles the pollen of deception, Jealousy is nurtured in artificiality, the child of malice sleeps in the cradle of cunning, Faith is torn apart by invisible claws the merciless deity of illusion, Slander becomes religion, division its mantra, and worship the ecstasy of another’s ruin, Touching the shadow of words, dead light descends upon the window of the mind. In the heat of arrogance fade the leaves of honesty, The masked soul searches for itself like a beggar, False ornaments, garments of deceit the light of forbidden truth, The courage to gaze dies, ashes of distrust gather in the chest, In laughter pierces the splinter of wounds, on the palm beats the soft drum of envy, Love is sold in palatable words, friendship built upon the sacrifice of betrayal, Serpents shed their skin in their eyes burns the fire of impure souls. Beneath the void sleeps an unfamiliar silence, the script of nightmares circles the face, Upon the mirror of conscience stains of hypocrisy, the reflection of truth distorted, Poison dwells in words, calculation in gaze, emotions crafted in factories of pretense, In dim utterances lies the imitation of remorse, wounds hidden behind illusion, Forgiveness an ornament, mercy an exhausted meaning, bowed honesty a gravestone. Inner world moonlight scorched by the heat of sin, rain fears to descend through the vapor of guilt, Eyes overflow with emptiness, the heart seeks some invisible bridge of deliverance, In the womb of darkness, in the valley of decay, is born the seed of light silent, endless, immortal, The seed, symbol of purification, finds creation in the flame of destruction, Man, weary wanderer of a long journey, walks against the shadow of his own self, Burning in fire, he awakens within his inner world, within his own thorny path.

24

Within the chest, lies the silence of centuries suppressed, In the strangled voice gather cries of hunger, silent lamentations, The creature transformed into machine, emotions erased in the ledger of numbers, In exchange for labor, the soul is plundered, in each breath coagulates resentment Beneath the ruins waits the imminent explosion. This wrath is not a fleeting storm, but fire of congealed blood, The eruption of fiery streams breaks the steel chains of exploitation, Slogans of rebellion are born in the scorched heart, Behind civilization’s golden mask perish countless lives, Lament transforms into expanding flames, soundless—the earth trembles. In the silent fire turn to ash the palaces of false opulence, with tears and breath, The stifled cries of hunger and poverty merge with the river’s current, In the scent of soil accumulates the vow of rebellion, the torch of fire, The expanding soundless revolt awakens blood within blood, Tears transform into the thunder’s roar history is inscribed in new struggles.

0

Oct 3, 2025

Oct 3, 2025 at 5:46 PM UTC

The Expanding Fire of Soundless Revolt

Within the chest, lies the silence of centuries suppressed, In the strangled voice gather cries of hunger, silent lamentations, The creature transformed into machine, emotions erased in the ledger of numbers, In exchange for labor, the soul is plundered, in each breath coagulates resentment Beneath the ruins waits the imminent explosion. This wrath is not a fleeting storm, but fire of congealed blood, The eruption of fiery streams breaks the steel chains of exploitation, Slogans of rebellion are born in the scorched heart, Behind civilization’s golden mask perish countless lives, Lament transforms into expanding flames, soundless—the earth trembles. In the silent fire turn to ash the palaces of false opulence, with tears and breath, The stifled cries of hunger and poverty merge with the river’s current, In the scent of soil accumulates the vow of rebellion, the torch of fire, The expanding soundless revolt awakens blood within blood, Tears transform into the thunder’s roar history is inscribed in new struggles.

15

In the abstract light of the moon is cleansed the inner stillness of the current, In the voice of the current rings the shimmer of moon-enchanted prayer, Light blooms in the dark with an eternal kiss, Water becomes language, the soul melts into sensation, Silent alphabets stir upon the breast of the stream. From the deep stillness of the horizon, the voice rises from the navel-root, Is written a nocturnal lunar autobiography, In the rays of the moon trembles the hidden burn of thirst, The river listens — to primal raga, to searing pain, to the ballad of compassion, Within ebb and tide is composed the script of silence. Water does not cry, it flows with ancient vows washed in moonlight— No name, no identity, only the Vedic line of sorrow, Within pain remains the voice of reassurance, In moonlight’s stream of rebirth is the quiet call of love— Water — an eternal poet, with the moon as pen, and time-wounded ink. The soul is like a river — learning to forget, love flows in silence, The moon is not just light but a monsoon vision intoxicated in reflective remorse, In the heatless affection of the moon is born the deep song of silence, The voice of the river becomes the echo of wisdom, a stream-bound hour. Sorrow and love — a fluvial tale, an unuttered grievance.

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Jun 26, 2025

Jun 26, 2025 at 7:55 PM UTC

Moon-Enchanted Moonlight in the Voice of the Current

In the abstract light of the moon is cleansed the inner stillness of the current, In the voice of the current rings the shimmer of moon-enchanted prayer, Light blooms in the dark with an eternal kiss, Water becomes language, the soul melts into sensation, Silent alphabets stir upon the breast of the stream. From the deep stillness of the horizon, the voice rises from the navel-root, Is written a nocturnal lunar autobiography, In the rays of the moon trembles the hidden burn of thirst, The river listens — to primal raga, to searing pain, to the ballad of compassion, Within ebb and tide is composed the script of silence. Water does not cry, it flows with ancient vows washed in moonlight— No name, no identity, only the Vedic line of sorrow, Within pain remains the voice of reassurance, In moonlight’s stream of rebirth is the quiet call of love— Water — an eternal poet, with the moon as pen, and time-wounded ink. The soul is like a river — learning to forget, love flows in silence, The moon is not just light but a monsoon vision intoxicated in reflective remorse, In the heatless affection of the moon is born the deep song of silence, The voice of the river becomes the echo of wisdom, a stream-bound hour. Sorrow and love — a fluvial tale, an unuttered grievance.

20

In the silence of the cosmos, silent sparks burn, Behind sorrow, a wondrous morning of rebirth is built, Opening the heated gates of grief, monsoon dewdrops fall, At the core of crisis and exploitation lies an ineffable longing, The heart, wrapped in the dark blue veil of pain, receives the call of liberation. A pain-lit heart touches the silent cry of the oppressed with its fierce burn, In the depth of solitary deprivation, the flame of empathy blazes, Clinging to the light, it seeks the gentle touch of a final refuge a breath of peace, In the language of tears, innocent dreams bloom, the burning agony seeks freedom beyond resistance, On the lines of oppression in the terrifying fire-bath of darkness, a stage of truth rises. Blood-tears fall, in the soul’s fire-bath is born stainless humanity, In the burn of empathy in the flame of vows the wounded spirit continues to feel, From the experience of unwavering strength, the freedom of equality is born, The disregarded liberation hidden in scars expands into the great ocean, Infinite hope rises again silence floats away in the tidal light of new emergence. Like wide rivers, the words of pain rise like stones, Flowing deep in time an indomitable voice rises from the helpless throat, Piercing the darkness of sin, the guide of truth stands an untarnished radiance amidst crisis, In the cry of a hungry child, the wounds of history humanity dreams of justice, The voice of the oppressed becomes a crimson outcry of sorrowful protest. A new morning built in the fire of empathy awakens eternal belief, Across the fields spreads a fragrant wind, the voice of the oppressed echoes across the horizon, In veins of blood, on the pages of the heart undying, it lights an eternal flame, In the field of sorrow, crushing the nightmares, the seed of new life is sown, Struggles blend and merge, the image of new hope builds the eternal humanity.

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May 25, 2025

May 25, 2025 at 11:57 AM UTC

New Morning Forged in the Fire of Empathy

In the silence of the cosmos, silent sparks burn, Behind sorrow, a wondrous morning of rebirth is built, Opening the heated gates of grief, monsoon dewdrops fall, At the core of crisis and exploitation lies an ineffable longing, The heart, wrapped in the dark blue veil of pain, receives the call of liberation. A pain-lit heart touches the silent cry of the oppressed with its fierce burn, In the depth of solitary deprivation, the flame of empathy blazes, Clinging to the light, it seeks the gentle touch of a final refuge a breath of peace, In the language of tears, innocent dreams bloom, the burning agony seeks freedom beyond resistance, On the lines of oppression in the terrifying fire-bath of darkness, a stage of truth rises. Blood-tears fall, in the soul’s fire-bath is born stainless humanity, In the burn of empathy in the flame of vows the wounded spirit continues to feel, From the experience of unwavering strength, the freedom of equality is born, The disregarded liberation hidden in scars expands into the great ocean, Infinite hope rises again silence floats away in the tidal light of new emergence. Like wide rivers, the words of pain rise like stones, Flowing deep in time an indomitable voice rises from the helpless throat, Piercing the darkness of sin, the guide of truth stands an untarnished radiance amidst crisis, In the cry of a hungry child, the wounds of history humanity dreams of justice, The voice of the oppressed becomes a crimson outcry of sorrowful protest. A new morning built in the fire of empathy awakens eternal belief, Across the fields spreads a fragrant wind, the voice of the oppressed echoes across the horizon, In veins of blood, on the pages of the heart undying, it lights an eternal flame, In the field of sorrow, crushing the nightmares, the seed of new life is sown, Struggles blend and merge, the image of new hope builds the eternal humanity.

25

In the abyss of centuries, imprints of blood lie submerged, History is scarred in the veins of shackled dreams, Burning disgrace under the rule of darkness— The alphabet weeps, silenced echoes drift away, Awakening on the pages of manuscripts—Freedom. Chains are torn apart, awakening the fiery baptism of resolve, Piercing through the veins of night, a revolutionary dawn blooms, On the gray frontiers—where blood dries, In the murmur of memories, a wild flame ignites, Resonating—Freedom. Through the ruins of destruction, the tower of victory rises, On the scorched land, the mantra of rebirth is sown, The lamp of truth burns, bathed in blood-stained white, After the blaze, its heat spreads among the stars, From the heap of corpses is born—Freedom. The tattered curtain of oppression burns in the flames, The toxic citadel of tyranny crumbles into dust, Piercing the chest of emptiness, the radiance of rebellion blooms, In the veins of the earth flows an indestructible storm of resolve, The pure, luminous mark is—Freedom. The warmth of the soul is not merely the glow of the sun, It is an immortal legacy forged in the glory of sacrifice, On the meteors of time is written the defeat of servitude, Roots of resistance embed deep, nurturing new dreams, The light of freedom—eternal, unyielding! © 4 mins ago, Azahar Raza

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Mar 27, 2025

Mar 27, 2025 at 4:23 PM UTC

The Light of Freedom

In the abyss of centuries, imprints of blood lie submerged, History is scarred in the veins of shackled dreams, Burning disgrace under the rule of darkness— The alphabet weeps, silenced echoes drift away, Awakening on the pages of manuscripts—Freedom. Chains are torn apart, awakening the fiery baptism of resolve, Piercing through the veins of night, a revolutionary dawn blooms, On the gray frontiers—where blood dries, In the murmur of memories, a wild flame ignites, Resonating—Freedom. Through the ruins of destruction, the tower of victory rises, On the scorched land, the mantra of rebirth is sown, The lamp of truth burns, bathed in blood-stained white, After the blaze, its heat spreads among the stars, From the heap of corpses is born—Freedom. The tattered curtain of oppression burns in the flames, The toxic citadel of tyranny crumbles into dust, Piercing the chest of emptiness, the radiance of rebellion blooms, In the veins of the earth flows an indestructible storm of resolve, The pure, luminous mark is—Freedom. The warmth of the soul is not merely the glow of the sun, It is an immortal legacy forged in the glory of sacrifice, On the meteors of time is written the defeat of servitude, Roots of resistance embed deep, nurturing new dreams, The light of freedom—eternal, unyielding! © 4 mins ago, Azahar Raza

26

In the weave of human rights awakens an unbroken sense of entitlement, Peace, equality—eternal truths stored deep within the soul, Fair place, dignity, security—birthright, recognition of existence, Fearless dreams, no pain of hunger, no victim of injustice, In the deep currents of humanity, unwavering commitment, fearless existence. Rights are not mere words; they are desires, eternal longing, A mind dedicated to equality, every voice is equal, Seeking survival in the darkness of oppression, consciousness bathed in sunlight, A dream of an enlightened society where the shadow of tyranny does not fall, An unbreakable bridge built for people, aiding one another. In the tidal waves of life, the roar of equality flows, the song of freedom, A society without exploitation, humiliation, or demands for tolerance, Freedom is not just a word but the abundance of the heart, Steps toward safeguarding rights, humanity remains awake, In search of free air, society moves in an eternal rhythm of peace. The pages of human rights, chapters written with the plea of the heart, A deep endeavor to spread light into the corners of society, A compassionate heart for the oppressed, a humane refuge, Needs, hopes, aspirations—constructed universal equal rights, Breaking the barriers of inhumanity, unwavering human solidarity in establishing truth. To protect eternal human rights, the spirit of the soul rises, Equal dignity in society—this is the unshakable truth, Freedom, the opportunity to express independent opinions—an inseparable part, Embracing the consciousness of equality once again, The purest voice of human rights reaches every soul.

0

Mar 22, 2025

Mar 22, 2025 at 4:38 PM UTC

Constructed Universal Equal Rights

In the weave of human rights awakens an unbroken sense of entitlement, Peace, equality—eternal truths stored deep within the soul, Fair place, dignity, security—birthright, recognition of existence, Fearless dreams, no pain of hunger, no victim of injustice, In the deep currents of humanity, unwavering commitment, fearless existence. Rights are not mere words; they are desires, eternal longing, A mind dedicated to equality, every voice is equal, Seeking survival in the darkness of oppression, consciousness bathed in sunlight, A dream of an enlightened society where the shadow of tyranny does not fall, An unbreakable bridge built for people, aiding one another. In the tidal waves of life, the roar of equality flows, the song of freedom, A society without exploitation, humiliation, or demands for tolerance, Freedom is not just a word but the abundance of the heart, Steps toward safeguarding rights, humanity remains awake, In search of free air, society moves in an eternal rhythm of peace. The pages of human rights, chapters written with the plea of the heart, A deep endeavor to spread light into the corners of society, A compassionate heart for the oppressed, a humane refuge, Needs, hopes, aspirations—constructed universal equal rights, Breaking the barriers of inhumanity, unwavering human solidarity in establishing truth. To protect eternal human rights, the spirit of the soul rises, Equal dignity in society—this is the unshakable truth, Freedom, the opportunity to express independent opinions—an inseparable part, Embracing the consciousness of equality once again, The purest voice of human rights reaches every soul.

25

I have engraved letters of oath upon the boundaries of emptiness, Resonating the endless proclamation of love in invisible ink. I have inscribed love deep within the heart— painted in the air, Words are born, uttered within the sphere of vows, The pages of love breathe— an eternal language. In silence, oaths are born in love’s darkness, A vow of devotion to love— without words. In the veins of existence, the oath flows like coursing blood, The form of love echoes amidst the ruins, In the abyss of time, awakens— the spoken god of love. A spontaneous stream of love, luminous in the stillness of the night, This vow inscribed upon the chest of silence— deeper than fire. Endless is the wait, in the womb of emptiness is born an epic, An invisible radiance, the ashes of destruction heaped in time’s womb, Letters of promise— the grammar of love is never dead. In the exiled frontier, loneliness burns like the dark Palash flower, I have written the unwritten grievance, ignited rebellion in the flames of blood. The secret language of eternal love spreads across the world, Love transcends into new light— in the depths of the vow, The words of the vow— eternally flow in the stream of tears. At the abyss of the stairway of truth, the final kneeling prayer, Death, time, or suffering— an unparalleled light rises, In the solitary script of the wind, an oath— love’s ultimate sacrifice, A floating, silent promise, surviving through a kiss, Eternal love— carries an indestructible vow in the void.

0

Mar 19, 2025

Mar 19, 2025 at 5:49 PM UTC

Oath of Love Written in the Void

I have engraved letters of oath upon the boundaries of emptiness, Resonating the endless proclamation of love in invisible ink. I have inscribed love deep within the heart— painted in the air, Words are born, uttered within the sphere of vows, The pages of love breathe— an eternal language. In silence, oaths are born in love’s darkness, A vow of devotion to love— without words. In the veins of existence, the oath flows like coursing blood, The form of love echoes amidst the ruins, In the abyss of time, awakens— the spoken god of love. A spontaneous stream of love, luminous in the stillness of the night, This vow inscribed upon the chest of silence— deeper than fire. Endless is the wait, in the womb of emptiness is born an epic, An invisible radiance, the ashes of destruction heaped in time’s womb, Letters of promise— the grammar of love is never dead. In the exiled frontier, loneliness burns like the dark Palash flower, I have written the unwritten grievance, ignited rebellion in the flames of blood. The secret language of eternal love spreads across the world, Love transcends into new light— in the depths of the vow, The words of the vow— eternally flow in the stream of tears. At the abyss of the stairway of truth, the final kneeling prayer, Death, time, or suffering— an unparalleled light rises, In the solitary script of the wind, an oath— love’s ultimate sacrifice, A floating, silent promise, surviving through a kiss, Eternal love— carries an indestructible vow in the void.

25