The Weight of Silence
He stands alone beneath the strain—
Of dreams long gone, dissolved in rain.
What once was vivid, now erased,
A faint illusion, poorly traced.
The ones he loved, who gave their all,
Who stood beside him, through each fall.
Each year dissolved like melting ice.
He squandered all they sacrificed,
He feels their care, a weight so deep,
And in that love, his guilt does creep.
For as they age, and time moves on,
He fears his time, his chance, is gone.
A heart that faltered, never whole,
A life adrift, without a goal.
He wears the guilt like weathered skin,
Too numb to care, too lost within.
The world, a distant, cold demand,
Moves forward with its callous hand.
He wandered through its silent roar—
Each door he sought, forevermore
Became a shadow, closed in light,
A whispered dream consumed by night.
A mind unfit to tend or earn,
A broken spirit at each turn.
He sees himself, a hollow man,
Too frail to help, too late to stand.
Yet in the quiet, desperate prayer,
He calls to God, wondering if hope is still there.
If given time to start once more,
Would life unlock a waiting door?
For second chances, fleeting, rare,
Feel distant in the pit of care.
But somewhere in the echo, clear,
The truth emerges, drawing near.
For every fall, the ground gives way,
To paths unseen, a brighter day.
And in the dark, beneath the cost,
He finds that all is never lost.
The journey starts, not where it ends,
But where the broken heart ascends.
Perhaps the failure that he sees,
Is part of life’s uncertain seas.
And tides will rise, and tides will cease,
But something waits beyond the call.
He looks ahead with tear-streaked face,
And asks for nothing but the grace—
To start again, though lost and small,
To learn to love beyond it all.