The Quiet Weight Of Light

The Quiet Weight Of Light

There is a room inside me no one has entered,

It does not creak or groan when the wind leans close,

It simply waits with the patience of stone,

And keeps its lamp unlit until someone dares to breathe.

I have walked through crowded streets with this silence,

Carrying it like a sealed letter against my ribs,

No address written, no stamp of return,

Only the promise that something within refuses to fade.

You may think you know the outline of my shadow,

The easy smile, the nod, the ordinary grace,

Yet beneath the fabric of my spoken days,

A deeper current turns the tide without a sound.

I have seen how light behaves at the edge of dusk,

How it lingers as though reluctant to surrender,

It does not argue with the coming dark,

It glows once more, and in that glow becomes unforgettable.

There are questions I have folded into my pocket,

Not to hide them, only to feel their weight,

They press against me when the night grows still,

And ask who I am when no one calls my name.

I am not made only of what can be praised,

Nor only of the errors that cling like dust,

I am the pause between two heartbeats,

The held breath before a truth is spoken aloud.

If you stand close enough you may sense it,

That quiet force that does not beg to be seen,

It draws you nearer without a single word,

And leaves you wondering why you cannot step away.

So come no closer than you are willing to change,

The light here does not flatter or deceive,

It will show you your own unguarded face,

And ask what you intend to do with what you find