Silken Dust

They say, Be not moved by gold, Nor charmed by crowns, Nor swayed by faces Carved like the dawn. But by hearts that give Without asking for more, By spirits clothed in grace, Stitched with kindness. Yet we—fragile beings, Spun from dust and desire, Bow often to the gleam, Reaching for what glitters. They say, Let the heart lead the way, Let the soul discern freely, That true beauty lies In soft-spoken words. But we—flawed and fleeting, Walk past the sacred, Chasing shimmery mirages, Bruising the hands of need. They say, Love the one who listens When silence falls, Who sees you not as conquest, But as home—a safe haven. Yet the eyes, ever hungry, Falls for the sparks, And not the hot flames, That lingers in quiet devotion. And while character fades, Into the noise we choose, The soul stays hushed, Whimpering beneath glitters.