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Before it all… before anything, before the measure of time,
before thought had its first spark, before the first word
was ever spoken— there was Silence.

And in that silence, there was peace— a stillness vast
enough to cradle eternity, untouched, unbroken,
where nothing was needed, and nothing was lost.

But silence does not last forever. From its depths came
a fracture, a tremor in the void, and with it—Chaos.

The silence cried, and its tears fell like stars, scattering
across the endless dark. Their echoes stretched beyond
forever, reminding us that every peace carries its price,
and every beginning is born from breaking.

For even before creation, before the heavens, before
the earth, there was silence. And when all else is gone,
silence will remain.

“Perhaps I never lived, perhaps I never died.
For dying is simple, but living is the harder task—
yet in the silence, I hear the first true sound of life.”
Lalit Kumar Mar 3
46 years—a story spun,
where words don’t age, but only run.
Through brittle bones and fleeting days,
your ink still shines in silvered ways.

A love that sparks in enthusiastic "HEY,"
a moment seized, no time to sway.
For what’s a life if not a chance,
to love, to lose, to dance in rain?

You write of loss, you write of pain,
yet make them sing in sweet refrain.
Even when time whispers “****, that’s old,”
your verses burn like fire to cold.

So tell me, poet, will you weave
more lines for hearts that ache, believe?
For every word you’ve let untwine,
I stand here reading, lost in rhyme.

— The End —