walking between two worlds

There are those who walk between worlds,
quiet architects of light and silence,
shaping meaning from spaces
others leave untouched.
Their words carry weight,
not in the noise they make,
but in the stillness they offer,
a constellation of truths
only the attentive can see.

Their hands, fluent in creation,
shape futures not with grand gestures,
but with tender details,
leaving behind traces as delicate
and enduring as the scent of rain
clinging to warm earth.

Hearts like theirs, flickering compasses,
move through unsteady terrains
of love and longing,
their rhythm steady even when broken,
their pulse a quiet tether to both
the near and the distant—
balancing the ache of connection
with the sanctuary of solitude.

They hold their people close,
as tightly as memories,
their loyalty unspoken yet unshakable,
woven from strands of fire and resolve.
And yet, within the weight of belonging,
they fiercely protect their stillness—
not an escape, but a reclamation,
where their light gathers strength,
and their shadows learn to breathe.

The world may overlook
such understated brilliance,
but it endures—unwavering.
A beacon that neither begs nor demands,
its glow a quiet defiance
against the pull of the dark.
It lingers not to consume,
but to guide,
a spark that refuses to fade,
reminding even the vastest night
that light is never truly lost.