The Weaver of Silence
The old ones say
the night is a net of stories.
each thread a promise
caught between dream and dawn.
She sits within its hush,
mending what the wind forgets—
the lost songs,
the quiet prayers,
the names that slipped through sorrow.
The raven waits.
guardian of unfinished words.
And as her fingers move,
the sky remembers how to speak again.
softly—
like light returning to itself.
The Weaver of Silence
The old ones say
the night is a net of stories.
each thread a promise
caught between dream and dawn.
She sits within its hush,
mending what the wind forgets—
the lost songs,
the quiet prayers,
the names that slipped through sorrow.
The raven waits.
guardian of unfinished words.
And as her fingers move,
the sky remembers how to speak again.
softly—
like light returning to itself.
English
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek