At the end of the day, the moon sits back quietly, contrasting the darkness of the night. The mocking birds whistle bashfully, almost afraid to shatter the stillness with which the twilight has settled. Somewhere we don't know, a baby is being showered with gifts while his parents pick a loving name. The child's laugh overwhelms a man, who kneels beside his wife's grave with a bouquet of lilies. Grieving, he doesn't notice a struggling butterfly with wings clipped to a thorn near him. A young girl with flower beads around her head releases the poor creature while her red balloon escapes from her clutch. The balloon navigates the clouds until it lands on a homeless. Barefoot and starving, he opens the letter attached at the end of the balloon.
We are all seeking a flight from this labyrinth, which has perplexed humans with its numerous fates. But between this cry and joy, we hope to find kindness. Somewhere, embedded inside a tiny pendant.
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Can Poetry Heal? - Collections of a Wanderer
PoetryIs there a way out from this labyrinth? Maybe in poems and unsaid love we can seek refuge. Perhaps, this is what we stay alive for.
