Life drifts like a leaf in the wind—
none of us hold the thread
that tethers it to the branch.
We walk with borrowed breath,
uncertain how long the sky
will bear our weight.
In this fragile dance,
love and mercy become
the softest language we speak—
a balm for those who ache,
a light for those who wander.
Let pearls of wisdom spill from our lips,
let melodies of love rise from our hearts.
A word, a gesture, a glance—
each can etch warmth
into the cold corners of another's soul.
Even the smallest word of love blooms,
rippling beyond sight,
curling softly into eternity.
On this Friday, let us not waste
the gold of this hour.
Let us scatter love as if the world
were dry soil longing for rain.
In lifting others, we too rise,
our hearts swelling
like rivers in spring.
May our hands offer more than they take,
and our eyes discover
the quiet blessings that hum beneath life's surface.
For each day is a fragile gift,
and the moments we fill with love—
are the only ones that remain.
MyKoul
-
Author:
Mohammad Younus (
Offline) - Published: January 3rd, 2025 00:22
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Mutley Ravishes
Offline)
Comments3
Beautiful poem
God may have great love, but I think humans are only capable of small love. The depth will depend on the opponent.
I hope this poem receives the love it gives! Just sayin, My Poetic Side commentators!
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