In the stillness where words dissolve,
We became echoes of ourselves,
Fragments of a shattered whole,
Seeking truth in the void that swells.
Each gesture, a silent scream,
A reflection in the mirror’s haze,
Where the self is both seen and unseen,
A dance of shadows in life’s maze.
We are the sum of fleeting moments,
Stories written in the blood of time,
In the search for meaning, we unraveled,
Exposing the raw, the sublime.
In the space where we converge,
Our narratives blur, identities shift,
Bound by the transient and eternal,
We drift in the current, untethered, adrift.
Yet in the silence, we found a voice,
In the void, we glimpsed the sea,
And as our paths diverge and merge,
We part on the wings of poesy.
Shubhang Suri 