Whispers of the Heart

Without a name, I tread into -

the solstice of the soul,

where dreams—unfurled like petals—drip

in pools of pearl and coal.

I wander - through parentheses

and climb the ampersand,

where hearts writhe on the canvas of

life's intricate command.

Of Sun, the orchestrator, of

each atom's dance - I'm drawn

into the silent symphony

that weeps till dusk is gone.

Look! Truth is not - a simple line

but patterns, and they twist,

in rhythms, rhymes, and reckonings,

in fog and amethyst.

A universe in lower case,

no capital can cage,

inside our hearts, the stardust speaks

beyond the written page.

One need not shout to touch the sky,

or voice the silent prayer,

the whispers of the heart will find

their way to somewhere There.

Love is more thicker than forget -

more thinner than recall,

our souls, they hold the mystery

that dwarfs this earthly hall.