Poem: Not of This World

I am not of this world, not quite—
My bones remember other light.
A place where time is not a chain,
Where joy is fierce and free of name.

My thoughts slip through your measured air,
They bloom in silence, vanish there.
I speak in colors none can see,
And dream in chords of mystery.

The moon to me is not a phase,
But a whisper lost in silver haze.
The stars are not just burning spheres—
They sing old songs beyond your ears.

I walk, but not upon your ground—
I drift where others dare not sound.
Through shadows thick, through veils unseen,
In realms that flicker in between.

Not made for noise or weighted breath,
But something stitched in life and death.
A flicker caught in waking eyes,
A truth that hums beneath your lies.

Call me ghost, or wind, or flame—
I’ll never answer to a name.
For I am not of earth or sea—
I am the space where thoughts run free.