So stain—
as marks that remain longer than intent,
and hesitation pressed into the grain.
Second guess,
doubt’s small fracture widening,
as though the Voice were drowned,
as though we mistook the silence
for absence.
But sustain is not the clean note held—
it is the rough edge,
the falter carried forward,
the scar that steadies the hand.
And then—
awareness returns:
the Voice was never gone,
but braided in the ordinary speech
of those set beside us,
their words a lantern,
their presence the unlooked-for guide.
So stain becomes sustain:
not erasure,
but the keeping of every mark,
attesting of our having been led
even when we thought ourselves lost.
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 28th, 2025 05:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments4
The mark of a great poet built on the foundation of a philosopher where hidden in the words is the message, a key to knowledge that only those that desire it will find it. Lovely Cryptic and another fave
A heartwarming comment that shall remain with me, thank you Soren. 🕊️🙏🏻
My pleasure Cryptic
Rik, this is luminous…quiet revelation in motion. It reads like faith rediscovered through imperfection. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
And that makes it all worthwhile 🕊️🙏🏻
Good write A.
Thanks O 🕊️🙏🏻
Each mark in our lives sustains the memory of time Rik.
Andy
So true, Andy 🕊️🙏🏻
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