#weatheredtruths
He lies quiet, aye —
but it’s no peace.
It’s the kind of pause
a man takes when the world
has worn the edge off him.
No clash of memory,
no grind of purpose,
just that heavy hush
you hear in old steel
left too long in the rain.
Time’s a patient *******
It waits for no one.
It eats.
It stains.
And silence — once a shelter —
turns into the slow, red creep
that claims a blade
no longer swung.
Feb 24
Feb 24, 2026 at 2:19 AM UTC