Parallel Universe in Truth
In one universe, despair repeats,
the same old speech with nothing new.
In another, we laugh at its persistence—
not because it is small,
but because we are still here.
The room was quiet after the storm,
chairs overturned, papers scattered.
We gathered what was left,
not to restore the old order,
but to prove we could stand again
among the ruins of yesterday.
Hope is not a banner,
not a sermon,
just the stubborn act
of moving forward.
The road bent out of sight,
its gravel biting at our shoes.
We did not know what waited ahead,
only that each step
was already a refusal
to stay where we had fallen.
So, we step,
out of the echo,
into another place,
where even tired steps
make their own truth.
Our feet dragged,
but the dust they raised
was proof of movement.
Even weariness has a rhythm,
a slow drumbeat
that carries us forward
when nothing else will.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 29th, 2025 05:37
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments7
Such a poem Cryptic. Like the dirt road it looks nothing special on the surface but its solid foundation and guiding way takes us onward sheltering our feet from unseen holes and keeping them dry. One step in front of the other never looking back but only forward with each step one step closer to where ever we go. It is a long journey and the destruction left behind is only a memory put out of mind as we look to the horizon. Nicely penned this poem leaves a feeling of resolution and the persistent need to move onward. Loved it a fave
Boom. Powerful work.
Reading this felt like walking through ruins myself…each small step becoming its own quiet victory. You’ve captured that truth with clarity, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you for your contribution to the fushion
A pleasure indeed! And also helping Orchidee into collaborating 😊🕊️🙏🏻
There are an infinite number of parallel universes Rik that show every decision that was or was not made by all of us.
Andy
Bravo. A fine write. Love the lines about hope. Just brilliant, mate.
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