A silent world of monochrome,
The quiet halls I called my home,
Were waiting for a vibrant hue,
And then, my dearest, I found you.
You are the sun that breaks the mold,
A story waiting to be told.

​You are the rhythm in my chest,
That puts my weary fears to rest.
You are the breath I draw inside,
Where all my deepest truths reside.
You are the calm that takes control,
You are my heart, my soul.

​In every dream and waking thought,
In every battle I have fought,
Your gentle spirit is my guide,
A constant presence at my side.
You make the broken pieces whole,
You are my heart, my soul.

You know the words I cannot speak,
And lift me up when I am weak.
You see the truth behind my eyes,
And look past every thin disguise.
You play the most essential role,
You are my heart, my soul.

​And when the final stars descend,
My love for you will never end.
It is the one unchanging goal,
To cherish and to make you whole.
This truth I'll to the world extol:
You are my heart, my soul.

Do not be scared if your heart is a graveyard,
A quiet plot where memories are saved.
Each headstone marks a love or loss or friend,
A story that you thought would never end.

​Here lie the dreams that faded with the light,
And versions of yourself that lost the fight.
Here rest the words that you forgot to say,
The ghosts of every single yesterday.

​But look again, it is not just a tomb,
For in the silence, stubborn flowers bloom.
The soil is rich with lessons and with tears,
And watered by the strength of all your years.

​For nothing truly dies that taught you grace,
And from that grief, a garden takes its place.
That quiet ground is where your roots grow deep,
Awakening the promises you keep.

​You are no ghost who walks the lonely lane,
But a keeper, through the sun and rain.
This hallowed place, this sacred, guarded part,
Shows the living fire within your heart.

A silent room, a ticking clock,
A world outside that doesn't knock.
A phantom guest in my own chair,
Breathing in the vacant air.

​The city hums a distant tune,
Beneath the cold and silver moon.
A symphony I cannot join,
A counterfeit and worthless coin.

​Laughter echoes through the wall,
A life away, beyond my call.
I trace the patterns in the dust,
A friendship built on fragile trust.

​A mirror shows a stranger's face,
Lost in time, and out of place.
A silent whisper, not a word,
The loneliest sound I've ever heard.

A window barred, a sky so vast,
A future chained to shadows cast.
My feet know only trodden ground,
The hollow, circulating sound
Of lock and key, of whispered dread,
A ceiling heavy overhead.

​My spirit strains against the cage,
And turns a yet unwritten page.
It dreams of winds on open seas,
Of rustling leaves on forest trees.
A desperate and a silent plea,
To feel the sun and just be free.

​I watch a cloud drift slowly by,
And ache to ask it "how?" and "why?"
It knows no walls, no binding chain,
Just sunlit shores and cooling rain.
And in that sight, the longing grows,
A river that now overflows.

​This quiet ache, a constant hum,
For a day that has not yet come.
To run on fields of open green,
A life unwritten, a world unseen.
To breathe an air that costs no fee,
And break the chains to finally be.

A wild bird's cry on morning air,
A path untrodden, free of care.
A ship that slips its mooring lines,
To chase the sun where new light shines.

​A thought that breaks from mental chains,
And dares to dance in summer rains.
A voice that rises, clear and strong,
To right a long-enduring wrong.

​It's in the wind that whips the trees,
The endless surge of churning seas.
It's in the quiet, inward space,
Where you can set your own soul's pace.

​It is not given, never cheap,
Its seeds are sown while others sleep.
It's paid for with a heavy cost,
For futures gained and moments lost.

​So guard it well, this fragile thing,
The soaring hope on Freedom's wing.
For in its breath, both vast and deep,
A world of promise lies to keep.

The morning starts with sleepy sighs,
Until your fragrance starts to rise.
A rich dark promise, warm and deep,
Awakening my soul from sleep.

​You fill my favorite, cherished cup,
A gentle power to lift me up.
A bitter kiss, a sweet delight,
You make the foggy morning bright.

​You're comfort on a cloudy day,
You chase the tired blues away.
A simple, warm, and perfect treat,
My daily ritual, oh so sweet.

Time is not a treasure to be kept,
But a wild river, flowing while you slept.
And the greatest thief that you will ever meet,
Is the cautious echo of your own two feet.

​That sound was all I followed, year by year,
A muffled rhythm ruled by whispered fear.
I missed the rapids, roaring with a song,
By choosing paths where nothing could go wrong.

​I should have plunged into the churning spray,
And let the current tear the map away.
I should have danced on shores I didn't know,
And watched the strange and foreign campfires glow.

​But safety is a slow and silent drain,
That seeps the color out and leaves the stain
Of bland regret, a watermark of doubt,
On all the passions that you lived without.

​The river's now a distant, faded gleam,
The ghost of a forgotten, waking dream.
My shoes are clean, my journey is complete,
But all I hear's the echo of my feet.

The soul has chambers, deep and vast,
Where memories of futures past
Are kept beneath a silent seal,
Too true for passing words to feel.

​But when a melody takes flight,
It floods those silent rooms with light.
It is the breath, the pulse, the tone,
That lets the soul become its own.

A silent string, untouched, inside,
Where hidden joys and sorrows hide.
Then music breathes, a gentle sigh,
And makes that dormant spirit fly.

​It isn't heard, but deeply known,
A language that the soul has sown.
In every beat, in every chord,
A memory of life restored stored.

A single note, a whispered start,
A vibration in the air, a beat within the heart.
It rises soft, then bold and clear,
To banish doubt and conquer fear.

​A melody begins to weave,
A tapestry for souls who grieve.
It finds the cracks where sorrow hides,
And pours its golden light insides.

​The rhythm pulses, low and deep,
Awakening the hopes that sleep.
A thunderous crash, a cymbal's call,
Inspiring us to stand up tall.

​It speaks a language all can know,
From desert sands to arctic snow.
It bridges gaps of time and space,
A unifying, saving grace.

​It paints the scenes within the mind,
For loves we've lost and joys we find.
A symphony of memory,
It sets the captive spirit free.

​So let the chord in triumph ring,
The universal song we sing.
A force that's timeless, pure, and true,
The endless power, living in me and you.