By Leena Febles
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In the damp morning,
life is a movement
of heavy whispers,
a shell anchored to the earth,
the slow pull of existence,
gritty soil clings to the body,
each inch a struggle against the weight
of the world overhead.
Leaves loom like giants,
their vastness a canopy of fear,
and rain,
a tumultuous flooding,
drowning the quiet hopes of a simple meal.
In shadows, the scent of danger,
footfalls of larger lives,
where the world can crush,
snapping the fragile thread of being.
Yet in the slowness,
the pulse of life beats steady,
a reminder
that resilience is woven
into the fabric of each journey,
as the heart continues,
full of dreams,
trailing glistening paths through the dark.
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