You cannot turn back the sun once it has burned your skin,
Nor call back the night to ask where it has been,
What has been has spoken, not soft, not thin,
But loud in consequence, deep within.
You wear it in pauses before you trust,
You carry it quietly because you must,
In laughter that fades and settles to dust,
In memories that return, uninvited, unjust.
And what will be is already near,
Like rain that falls without your fear,
Like time that moves, steady and clear,
Unmoved by doubt, untouched by tear.
So why do you wrestle what will not fight,
Why argue with days that ignore your might,
Stand still and listen beyond your sight,
Where truth arrives without invite.
Do not doubt the truth in people’s confession,
It rises unplanned, beyond suppression,
Even denial leans on its own reflection,
For life has no rewrite, only revelation.
Mar 25
Mar 25, 2026 at 6:06 PM UTC
You cannot turn back the sun once it has burned your skin,
Nor call back the night to ask where it has been,
What has been has spoken, not soft, not thin,
But loud in consequence, deep within.
You wear it in pauses before you trust,
You carry it quietly because you must,
In laughter that fades and settles to dust,
In memories that return, uninvited, unjust.
And what will be is already near,
Like rain that falls without your fear,
Like time that moves, steady and clear,
Unmoved by doubt, untouched by tear.
So why do you wrestle what will not fight,
Why argue with days that ignore your might,
Stand still and listen beyond your sight,
Where truth arrives without invite.
Do not doubt the truth in people’s confession,
It rises unplanned, beyond suppression,
Even denial leans on its own reflection,
For life has no rewrite, only revelation.
