Under the sky { poem }

The cold of night embraced me,

sharp, unyielding, still.

Above, the moon — not a stone,

but a living flame,

casting rings upon rings of light,

infinite circles fading into forever.

I lay frozen, yet alive,

lost, yet deeply found.

Not seeing, but belonging.

Not thinking, but dissolving.

The galaxy stretched —

a river of fire across the dark,

a silence without end.

And I was only a witness,

a breath inside eternity,

a spark within the endless whole.

It was not meant for words.

It was meant to be lived.