The Visitor
It drifts through the dark, unclaimed by any sun,
its heart of ice older than our dreams.
No home, no orbit — only motion,
a whisper from another sky,
carrying the silence of light-years
and the secrets of worlds I’ll never touch.
I look up, and as it passes, I wave hello;
it nods in return, drifting by with quiet grace.
For a heartbeat, the vast emptiness
feels a little smaller,
and I remember who I am:
I lived, I loved, I laughed, and left.
Somewhere between the stars,
the cold and distant,
a spark of recognition lingers.
It smiles, as if to say,
you were never truly alone,
and for a moment, the universe
feels intimate,
like a friend passing on the wind,
sharing a fleeting secret
before continuing its endless journey.
And as it fades into the night,
I feel the same quiet grace within me —
a reminder that every path I’ve walked,
every love, every laugh,
has left a light behind,
small but enduring,
trailing like a comet
through the endless sky.
YOU ARE READING
Celestial Echoes
PoetryA lone comet drifts across the dark expanse, a silent traveler carrying whispers from distant worlds. Amid its passage, a fleeting connection stirs memories of love, laughter, and loss. This poem is a meditation on solitude, the weight of what we le...
