He never left a single note.
Just rings on wood, the scent of smoke.
A door unlocked a room left bare.
A ghost still sunken in the chair.

The bottle stood, its duty done.
A quiet war that no one won.
No cries for help, no last refrain.
Just heavy air and dried-up pain.

The world still turned the clocks still kept,
No one knew how hard he wept.
And when they asked they swore he laughed
Yet all he left was hollowed glass.

The king ordered silence,
No more song, no more dace,
No more daft scratching of that pen.

So I know just what I'll do,
I'll strike him over the head with my lute,
Then he will be silent too.

I met Happiness,
On the dreary streets of this gray city,
He picked me up,
And bought me bread.

I shook hands with Love,
At times a cruel jester,
Yet it's only a cover act,
To hide his deep sadness.

I talked to Inspiration,
The man himself,
He didn't have a lot to say,
But I felt wizened anyways.

I reached out to Solitary and Silence,
But nobody knew solitaries face,
So the news studio didn't let him in,
Silence simply had no comment.

In Rome,
There is silence.
Church bells lay still,
Once grand city,
Echoing the trills of black birds.
Their song, a lost cry of those who died.
In the deathly silence,
Of the plague.

When He was born,
He cried into the void of space,
Searching for the comforting voice of calm.

But only silence returns His call,
His tears echoing of the dark edges of the dark.

But He taught Himself to walk,
How to shape something with His own hands,
Then He made a world to answer back.

They told me I was loved.
Said it like a fact, like a given, like air.
And I nodded, let the words settle on my skin
but never sink in.

Because love—love is hands reaching,
but understanding?
Understanding is knowing why mine pull away.

I sat in rooms full of people who swore they cared,
but no one asked why my laughter always came half a second too late,
why silence fit me like a second skin.

They called me beautiful, said I was smart,
but never saw the way I flinched at echoes of my own thoughts.
They held me when I cried, but no one ever asked
what the tears were trying to say.

I used to think I was ungrateful—
to have love but still feel lost.
But now I know:
Love can be loud, can be warm, can be everywhere—
and still not speak your language.

So if you’ve ever felt this way,
like you exist in translation,
like love is the ocean but you are still thirsty—
I need you to hear this:

You are not wrong for wanting more.
You deserve to be understood.

There was a time when your laugh was my home,
When friendship was a soft place, a safe zone.
But the world that should’ve cradled you with care
Let you slip through, unnoticed, unaware.

You wore the weight of their words like chains,
And I, too young, couldn’t stop the rain.
I watched you fade, each day a little more,
But no one else seemed to see you soar.

I saw the cracks in your smile,
The way you shrank with each cruel trial.
The halls grew quieter the day you fell,
A whisper lost in a never-ending hell.

They said it was an accident, a tragedy.
But I knew better. I knew your plea.
I knew the way the darkness crept
Into your heart, the one you kept.

The echo of your voice still haunts me,
A call I never had the chance to see.
I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep,
I drowned in the grief I couldn’t keep.

Your absence crushed me,
I felt the weight of it like a stone.
The world turned its back,
But I was left here…

Alone.

I didn’t know where to go.
I didn’t know how to breathe.
I didn’t know how to scream.
I wanted to vanish,
I wanted to leave.
But your ghost kept me here,
Torn between the silence,
By the shattered fear.
I’m falling apart—
Falling…
apart..
.

****-Narrative | Yin

Twelve days have passed, and no word comes to me,
no painted stroke, no ink upon the page.
I fear the silence, yet I picture her,
a solitary figure, far away.
She seeks the earth, to ground her restless soul,
the water's flow, to cleanse her troubled mind.
The fire's heat, to forge a stronger will,
the wind's soft sigh, to whisper ancient truths,
Beyond the Element Mountains, she must roam.

She walks the paths where granite peaks arise,
where rivers wind through valleys, deep and green.
She feels the heat of embers, glowing bright,
the rustling leaves, a language she can hear.
I see her face, reflected in the stone,
a mirror to the strength she holds within.
She seeks the balance, lost within the storm,
the harmony that silence can impart,
a journey inward, where her spirit flies.

I wait for her, a shadow in the room,
where empty scrolls and brushes gather dust.
I trace her image, on the window pane,
a phantom artist, painting absent days.
I hear her footsteps, in the falling rain,
a distant echo, of her coming home.
I feel the longing, that the silence breeds,
the ache of absence, in the heart's long hall,
a story written, in the waiting time.

She will return, with wisdom in her eyes,
a quiet strength, that silence has refined.
She will bring stories, of the mountain's crest,
the river's journey, the fire's burning grace.
And I will listen, to her whispered tales,
of ancient elements, and inner peace.
For in her journey, love has found its way,
to bridge the distance, that the silence made,
where spirits meet, Beyond the Element Mountains.

--------------------------------------------------­--------------------------------------

Ci-Meditative | Yang

Twelve suns have risen, twelve pale moons have waned,
and silence stretches, a vast, unyielding sea.
No ink-stained paper, no painted breath arrives,
no whispered echo of your distant voice.
I picture you, beyond the city's hum,
a soul adrift, where ancient elements reside.
The earth holds steady, where your bare feet tread,
a grounding force where turmoil starts to cease,
a silent journey, Beyond the Element Mountains.

The water's flow, a cleansing, cool embrace,
washes away the doubts, the fears, the stains.
The fire's dance, a flicker in your eyes,
ignites the passion, where resolve takes hold.
The wind, a restless spirit, whispers truths,
through rustling leaves, a language understood.
The metal gleams, a mirror to your soul,
reflecting strength, a clarity reborn,
a quiet passage through a world unseen.

I trace your steps, a phantom on the path,
imagining the landscapes you explore.
The granite peaks, the river's silver thread,
the burning embers, the sigh of forest breeze.
I build a shrine of thoughts, a mental space,
where your reflection lingers, calm and deep.
My mind, a canvas where your image lives,
a portrait painted with imagined light,
a patient vigil, where hope begins to bloom.

The silence lingers, heavy, yet serene,
a space for growth, a pause where love endures.
I trust the journey, where your spirit flies,
to find the answers, hidden in the stones.
And when you return, with eyes that hold the dawn,
I will embrace the wisdom you have found.
For in the stillness, love's true strength is shown,
a bond unbroken, by the passing days,
where silence lives, Beyond the Element Mountains.