Storm quiet.
Chairs overturned.
Papers scattered.
We gather what remains
—not to restore the old order,
but to prove we can stand again
among the ruins of yesterday.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 1st, 2026 05:30
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 119
- Users favorite of this poem: Paul Bell, Tristan Robert Lange, DLewis88
Offline)
Comments10
onward and upward
Cheers, Norman🙏🏻🕊️
most welcome
Possessions you can replace, life you can't.
Mother nature sure is working overtime in destroying us.
Might be telling us something.
Much appreciated, Paul. Thank you so much 🙏🏻🕊️
Short, graphic with a powerful, somber and somewhat dark view of life itself. Well done Cryptic
Thanks Soren, life indeed can have a dark light cast in it at times🙏🏻🕊️
You are most welcome Cryptic
Clear that mess up! lol.
Yup, pretty much! 🙏🏻🕊️
We have to adapt. To keep going.
My friend, I find hope in this kind of perspective. Sometimes the greatest act of strength isn’t recreating what was lost…it’s finding the courage to stand where it fell and begin again. Wonderful write. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
We must always go into each new day after the ruins of yesterday Rik.
Andy
Yes, poignantly short, sharp and vivid. Reminds me that, as my old mother used to say, "this too, shall pass." Well expressed good sir!
Nice...short and true to life
That’s the spirit- gather yourself up and get going again. 👍💅
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