Tears of the sky arrive in whispers,
weaving the streets with threads of silver,
hiding loneliness behind a fogged windowpane.
The heavens seem to weep,
whispering longings that never arrive,
freezing fingers, trembling the soul.
Yet upon this small table,
a thin smoke dances from a bowl of ramen,
the scent of broth creeps in, embracing an empty chest.
Each spoonful is a flame,
teaching that warmth is not always born of an embrace,
that sometimes, a home appears
only for a fleeting moment.
Created by Sunrise with support from AI.
I’m an “unskilled” artist, but highly skilled at turning chaos into something beautiful... Read more…