The Silent Cry of the Heart
Poetry
In the domain where quiet rules,
The heart’s calm cry, a quiet stream,
Murmurs privileged insights, unheard, inconspicuous,
In the maze of the spirit’s fantasy.
Reverberations wait in the shadowed corridor,
Where isolation’s hug captivates,
Every heartbeat a mumble, a quiet call,
In the profundities where feelings spread.
Underneath the facade of unemotional appearance,
A tumult of interests, a quiet pretense,
An orchestra of longing, in the mask,
In the quiet domain where the heart lies.
Stifled moans at a horrendous hour,
Stars take the stand concerning the quiet situation,
In the material of dimness, carefully hidden,
The quiet shout, a timeless battle.
Words implicit, yet profoundly felt,
In the embroidery of quietness, they soften,
Every opinion in the heart abided,
In the quiet orchestra, genuine.
An ensemble formed in calm hold back,
Where the spirit’s regret tracks down the area,
In the openings of the psyche’s territory,
The quiet cry, a timeless blight.
So let the world regard the unheard supplication,
The quiet shout, set the heart free,
For in the quietness, reality might be,
The quiet cry of mankind.
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