It wasn't the storm that ravaged the dark sky
It wasn't the storm that ravaged the dark sky,
nor the heavy silence that settled like a velvet shroud,
not the muffled cry beneath layers of quiet breath,
but a single tear, from the left eye, falling secretively,
slow and full of meanings, carving its deep truth
on the face of a man who had never known tears.
They say the left eye is the window to the hidden soul,
and on that day, his soul opened like a flower at dawn,
without a sound, just an unseen light descending.
He had seen life unravel in a thousand forgotten ways—
dreams folded like letters carried by the wind,
houses raised and lost in a single spoken sentence,
loved ones disappearing without a final goodbye.
But on that day, he shattered like an ancient, silent amphora.
Not like glass—it would have been too simple and too easy,
more like the earth—cracked by drought and longing,
too weary to cry out its desire for rain and solace.
She had left, not with slammed doors or thrown words,
but with a silence—so gentle, it tore everything apart,
every sound in his soul extinguished, leaving mute echoes.
And he remained, in the room they once filled,
with laughter and stories of old, now just memory,
holding in his palms the shadow of her lingering scent.
His hand did not tremble, his voice did not waver at all,
but the tear fell—from the left eye, as if it knew,
how deep the love had burned in his soul.
As if it carried every word ever unspoken,
every promise he wished to always fulfill.
It wasn't weakness, it was history—leaving his eye,
in a dance of salt and longing, a ritual of silent loss.
He wiped it away, not with shame, but with a deep, solemn reverence.
That drop—it was a monument of time gone by,
for a love that couldn't be saved from oblivion,
for a part of him that would remain hidden from the world.
And yet, he continued to walk, to step forward,
because some men cry only once in their lives.
And then, they carry within them oceans full of unheard songs...
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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