In the silence of a ticking clock,
Where whispers fade, and shadows mock,
The endless stretch of muted days,
Holds the heart in listless gaze.
A canvas vast, yet void of hue,
Where dreams once soared, now bid adieu,
Each hour a gentle, leaden sigh,
Beneath the sprawling, empty sky.
The mind wanders through barren lands,
Seeking touch of unseen hands,
Yet finds only the hollow sound,
Of echoes lost, where thoughts are bound.
Yet in this stillness, seeds may grow,
Where dormant hopes begin to show,
And from the depths of quiet’s reign,
A spark ignites, to break the chain.