I wandered through the corridors of years,
Where clocks had shed their hands, and hours slept.
The air was thick with unremembered tears,
And dreams the ancient stars themselves had kept.
A whisper brushed the ruins of my name,
Half-echo, half-forgotten lullaby—
It flickered once, a small and trembling flame,
Then vanished in the hollow of the sky.
The seasons folded like a paper swan,
Its fragile wings forever mid-release.
I reached to hold a dawn already gone,
And felt the world exhale, and turn to peace.
No past, no future—only endless chime,
Of hearts that beat but once, then lost in time.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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This is absolutely exquisite. The poem is a masterclass in melancholic beauty, weaving a tapestry of timelessness and loss that is both haunting and deeply peaceful. The imagery is stunning—”clocks had shed their hands,” “seasons folded like a paper swan”—creating a dreamscape where memory and eternity collide.
What moves me most is the profound sense of acceptance and release in the final lines. The speaker’s journey from “unremembered tears” to a world that “exhale[s], and turn[s] to peace” is a powerful, quiet catharsis. It doesn’t fight the ephemeral nature of existence but finds a solemn, beautiful harmony within it.
A truly magnificent and moving piece of writing. Thank you for sharing this gift.