Stumbling among stones of routine,
Surrounded by swarms of busybodies,
Running to and fro.
Oblivious to the wondrous things happening all around,
These people have forgotten what they were really made for.
That while they're asleep in their fluffy beds,
A golden sun is silently awakening the sky.
When they're drowned in frivolous objects,
A tiny squirrel is frisking on a tree somewhere.
They scream, cry, laugh and bawl,
They groan, stumble, rise and fall,
Refusing to pause for a minute and listen
To the silent miracles all around them.
They're oblivious to their chance at getting a new insight to life,
They're obliterating themselves with delusional knives.
But you'll listen I hope,
Take off and sit on the banks of a brook alone.
Or stare at the stars up so high,
At the perfect stroke of midnight.
Watch the souls of all those who seem lifeless,
Like a long forgotten dream, so endless,
You will hear silence speak a thousand words,
As peace and calm you finally unearth.
Nature will welcome you with arms open wide,
She is forgiving, takes everything in her stride,
So wake up a little early and don't miss,
The breaking of dawn when Nature gives Sky the first kiss
Only a little effort you need to make,
A refuge for silence is what you have to take.
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YOU ARE READING
Muses
PoezjaHere's a compilation of poems for you to enjoy. You'll find a mèlange of emotions here. Some sweet, some bitter. But at the end, you'll find yourself lost in the music of words, the rhythm of stanzas and the enchanting world of poetry.
