The sharp taps of the clock await my silence to break free from my wistful whisper—to never hear it while my eyes are shot open, to find my nerve and trigger it—as the sadness carefully passes through my system. Too far gone to care, leaving me paralyzed in a cold, soft, sinking bed.

It was a momentary piece where my head had the sensation of being stroked like piano keys, where a soft yet disturbing melody filled the place, and I closed my eyes, lulling me to my deep slumber.

There’s that unknown peace where a deep slumber could lead to an eternal doom—where the past, the present, and the future collide together, where everything exists together, whether in a beautiful song that’s pieced together, or loneliness held in thousands of agonies.

One thing is for sure, I have the guts to love the doomsday, and all things are possible because it is the end of May.

Fall greets the earth as summer slips quietly away.
The seasons are changing, as the leaves shift in color from Emerald Green and Chartreuse
to Russet Browns, antiques of their once fine grandeur,
though still splendid in their beauty.
The color of the leaves, as if painted by hand, so individually crafted.
With swirls of Orange and Coquelicot, the leaves fall as if they are gracing the earth the way a painter graces their canvas.
The air grows cooler, giving way to new glory, breezy winds that whisper, carrying undertones of what is to come.
The lakes feel the chill, and the creatures understand that the changing winds will soon give way to a glacial paradise, an icy oasis.
The changing of the season from summer to fall is one I look forward to,
for there is something in the change that brings back fond memories.
Days filled with love, days spent in front of the fire, snugly wrapped, watching the flames twirl and dance.
Days filled with wonder, days in which my life seemed to move along to a soft and gentle melody that only I could hear.
Days when I held to life, and it met me with grace.
Still now, when I feel the fall winds gently embracing my skin,
I feel the same wonder, and that old melody carries me away again.

-Rhia Clay

All alone
by the noon,
softly humming
an old tune.

Eyes that drift
toward the moon,
air is still,
a bit too cool.

No more tools,
just quiet bloom—
a soul unfolding
in its room.

Waterlilies sing
Hope plays her harp on jade moss
Summer’s melody

In a world where silence sings its tune,
The rhythm of soundless music made me swoon.
Melody whispers without a single word,
A song without lyrics, yet deeply heard.

Notes dance in the air, delicate and free,
A sound of my soul, a silent decree.
No verses to guide, no lyrics to sing,
Yet, the heart understands, in quietening.

A sailing ship in a storm's embrace,
Navigating the storm to find its grace.
Each wave a note, every blow a chord,
In the music of silence, a journey explored.

The wind becomes a conductor unseen,
Directing the ship through waters serene.
No need for words in this melodic flight,
The soundless music carries through the night.

So let the ship sail in the storm's ballet,
A dance with silence, the night's display.
In the heart's quiet harbor, a melody supreme,
The rhythm of soundless music, beyond time.

By
Sanji-Paul Arvind

I’ll keep on telling you that I love you—
soft as dust on lace,
a whisper tucked in velvet drawers,
a melody wound into time
by trembling hands and silver keys.

Like the ballerina turning in her little glass world,
I’ll spin my love in slow circles,
over and over—
even when the tune grows thin,
even when the gears grow tired.

When the cogs in my mind lose their rhythm,
when the clockwork in my chest falters,
when my fingers no longer reach to hold you—
still, somewhere beneath the hush,
my heart will echo its worn refrain:
“I love you, I love you…”

Until the spindle stops,
until the lid closes gently,
and all that’s left
is the scent of old music,
the silence that remembers
the song we once knew.

Misguided steps, manipulated, broken,
Fragments of a life, tokens,
Memories, dark, awoken,
Provoking ramblings, choking,
Left for dead, moping,
Listless, out of time.