1
2
3
The count you whisper
To steady the tremor
That doesn’t listen
A
B
C
The letters you line up
Like tiny anchors
Hoping one of them
Will hold
Numbers try to cage the chaos.
Letters try to name the fear
But between them
In that thin
Humming space
An unease flickers
Quick as a pulse
Sharp as a thought you can’t finish
Still you keep counting
Still you keep spelling
Because sometimes
The smallest symbols
Are the only things
That feel solid enough
To touch
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Author:
Anthony Hanible (
Offline) - Published: April 8th, 2026 05:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: Anthony Hanible
Offline)
Comments1
It is out of atoms that molecules are built and from them cells and of cells organs and organs give way to organisms and societies and nations and the world. From the small come the large
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