break the cycle.
I had all the right words, but I was mute.
So, I wrote them down.
But he was blind.
So, I made someone else read them to him.
But he didn’t know my language.
Now, he had something to say.
But when he spoke, he forgot.
Later, he remembered, so he wrote them down.
But I didn’t understand what it meant.
And the cycle continued.
*The bridge we built*
ReplyDeleteI wrote the words, but they slipped through air,
A whisper lost in the void.
He reached for them, but the ink was blind.
So I reached for a tool,
A bridge of light in the dark.
He couldn't see, so I painted sound,
A song to pierce the night, A melody to spark.
He felt the rhythm, the pulse, the beat,
And the darkness turned to light.
We found a way, not through words alone,
But through touch, through tone, through time.
A bridge of hands, of hearts, of hope,
Where the broken could realign.
The cycle broke, the chains fell loose,
And the silence found its voice.
We built a world where words could breathe,
And the heart could now rejoice.