Though the world may rage,
like gilded nightingales caught in a cage,
our souls can still sing softly.
The earth may crack with no footfall to faucet,
the fault doesn't always fall with the wind,
sometimes, the storm begins within.
This is why the search begins,
beneath the surface, where the silence knows our name,
where the echoes go to live.
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 10:22 PM UTC
Though the world may rage,
like gilded nightingales caught in a cage,
our souls can still sing softly.
The earth may crack with no footfall to faucet,
the fault doesn't always fall with the wind,
sometimes, the storm begins within.
This is why the search begins,
beneath the surface, where the silence knows our name,
where the echoes go to live.
I wrote this poem regarding times throughout my life I've felt stuck or "caged" due to societal norms. It's about introspection and resilience in a world full of noise and pain, committed to pushing their own narrative. When we're able to go within, true healing and strength begins. Diving deep into our silence to discover our authentic self, then fight like hell to defend it.
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