If the passage of time
Is not absolute,
Then, some moments ago,
Our love was forged
Inside a star
Scattered across the cosmos,
Endlessly rippling,
A silent explosion
That no one
Existed to witness
It is the quiet hum
Of wind against the leaves.
It is the trickle of water
Over an old,
Worn down stone
It is the fire that crackles,
And the snow outside
That slowly falls.
It is every tiny particle,
It is this poem.
So, as I write, I ponder,
Just how lucky we are,
That by mere coincidence,
We are briefly conscious
For long enough
To feel it.
-
Author:
Kora (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 6th, 2025 15:21
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
Loved the last stanza in this poem that is romantic in a cosmic way. Every once in a while enough love comes together to form something great sometimes a person, sometimes art, sometimes a poem
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