A Star adrift

A Star Adrift In the quiet of a shadowed room, A man sat still, wrapped in gloom. His hands were clenched, his shoulders low, A heart weighed down by life’s cruel blows. Fear lived in him, a constant chain, A phantom’s whisper, a steady pain. He reached for hands, for aid, for light, But found no rescue in the night. “Why,” he asked, “do I give my care, To faces that vanish when I’m laid bare?” The answers never came, just the weight, Of promises broken, of endless fate. The days stretched long, the nights grew cold, And still, he carried a story untold. Each laugh he tried was hollow, bare, Each tear turned stone, too heavy to share. Anger stirred, a quiet flame, Its embers called him, whispered blame. “Let us guide, let us consume, Burn what binds and end the gloom.” Yet even rage could not suffice, To thaw the man now turned to ice. He hated himself for feeling this way, For losing the man he’d dreamed to portray. He loved his children, their laughter’s tune, A fleeting warmth beneath the moon. He loved a friend, whose steady hand, Anchored him in shifting sand. He loved his family, though love ran cold, A thread worn thin, frayed and old. An ocean stood between his cries, And the people he’d once idolized. He turned to love, but love turned sharp, A mirror reflecting every scar. “Stay silent, stay small,” they’d say, “Don’t stir the storm; drift away.” And so, he did, though his heart would scream, A muted echo of a broken dream. He gave, he served, he stood, he stayed, But found no shelter, no debts repaid. A wandering star, he drifted far, Through endless nights, a fading star. Yet even stone will bear a crack, Even storms can find their track. In quiet despair, he dared to dream, To let his light through darkness gleam. The man who wandered found his way, A name reborn, a soul unfrayed.