They said the stars were born of dust,
That life awoke by chance- not trust.
No hand to shape, no grand design,
Just atoms spinning, cold and blind.

They taught us all to chase the light,
To crown the mind, dethrone the night.
But stripped of soul, what did we find?
A clever beast. An empty mind.

No voice from heaven. No sacred law.
No seeing eye. No heart in awe.
Just bones that break. Just blood that dries.
And meaning lost beneath the skies.

Yet in the silence, something stays-
A whisper through our shadowed days:
"He sees you still, though no eye sees.
What you sow now returns to thee."

It is the line before the crime,
The pause, the weight, the edge of time-
The thought that sears, the fear, the flame:
There is a Judge- you’ll speak your name.

But cast that voice in silence out,
Replace it with the hunger’s shout,
And man will turn with sharpened claw,
To write his will as nature’s law.

He'll build machines, then break the sky,
And never once ask, "Tell me why?"
He'll sit on thrones of steel and fire,
With hollow heart and cold desire.

So science grows, but wisdom fades.
The lights shine bright, yet cast long shades.
And in their glare, we lose the thread-
Forget the living. Mourn the dead.

Let science serve, but not command.
Let knowledge walk, not seize the land.
For when the soul is left behind,
The mind becomes a cage, not mind.

So whisper still, O voice divine-
Be now our brake, our sacred line.
Not all is dust, not all in vain.
The truth remains: we rise again.

If the stars could speak through skies at night,
And every shimmer held a dream in light,
Would we dare to listen, still and long,
To find the place where all our hopes belong?

If the trees could walk the world with grace,
And share the stories rooted in each place,
Would we learn to honor leaf and ground,
And hear in silence how all life is bound?

If the oceans rose to voice their song,
Revealing secrets they’ve held deep and long,
Would we dive into their boundless blue,
And join the dance of life in something true?

If hearts could speak without a single sound,
And feelings lost were suddenly unbound,
Would love then bloom, unshackled, wide and tall,
And bind all souls together, one and all?

If tomorrow came with no more pain—
Just golden calm behind the passing rain—
Would we step forward, fearless, full of light,
And paint our lives in every color bright?

She walks unlit between the crowd,
A hush beneath the voices loud.
The hours bruise her open hands,
Bartering breath for small demands.

No desk, no page, no teacher's name—
Just lessons scraped from soot and flame.
Her dreams, like threadbare hems, unwind—
Too delicate for those half-blind.

They do not see the shape she bears—
A rootless bloom that learns to care
For scraps of sky, for drifting sound,
For silence in a world unbound.

The mirror offers her no script,
No birthright carved, no title gripped.
Yet in her chest, a slow-burned spark—
A vow that glows beneath the dark.

Outside, the banyan dares to stay,
Its limbs a home for those astray.
She sees herself in trunk and leaf—
A quiet spine, a growing grief.

What voice is hers, if none reply?
What name survives when none ask why?
Still she persists, unknown, unseen—
A bloom that breaks through concrete green.