Now that they are written,
each fragment in its place,
the weight I carried for so long
has slipped away.

Words, mirrors of the soul,
linger on this page,
pressed like a seal,
marking the moment,
pouring out hope and faith.

Words,
woven like a spider’s web
in the darkness of my heart,
stir and tremble,
whisper like a restless stream,
fully alive,
waiting for their keeper to release them,
to weave a quiet longing,
like a painting on the wall—
a fleeting touch of comfort.