They slide through the city quietly,
No badge, no spotlight, just that
Hush - pressure vibe that makes your
Skin read the room before your eyes do.
Unseen movers
Unseen scribes
Writing your name in places
You ain't never walked.
They draft futures in
Side-pockets,
Tuck provision in the corners of
Conversations, drop signatures in
Hush Hush.
Like chalk marks only the street can decode.
You feel 'em in the shift- that micro pause-
That air-tight moment
Where the world alters itself
And pretends it didn't.
State Actors,
No stage
No curtains,
Just corridors that rearrange when you blink
Too slow,
Scripts of the unseen, inked in obscurity,
Performed in systems
That don't need an audience to keep the
Plot running.
But You?
You walk through it rowdy
Refusing to let hidden hands
Truth and bright
Ghostwrite your fate.
By Poet..... "Sometime life is unseen. What remains then shows up."
Over the many years,
pillows have been filled with tears.
Unseen dreams of attacking bears,
representing my many fears.
Now unseen what remains?
It is all locked away in my brains,
tied tight with heavy chains.
Sometimes red busting veins,
filling me with overwhelming pains.
Let the snow roll over in my dreams,
Let the shore be cast away in my sea,
Let the stage take my fall away,
Let the path take me walking along the way.
The last dawn does not wait for the final dusk,
The last walk for the unknown stride,
The least is the unknown slavery,
The feast is for this tidy courage.
Where I step, I step twice,
Once for myself and another for the Silence.
I worship my Silence along the sidewalk,
I never truly believe in the communion.
Let me clear my voice,
Sleeping is the unseen lavishness,
Running towards the maze is my labyrinth,
Going to be heard in silence and not to be unseen.
Ignore the path that is not yours,
Align with the thought that causes you to walk alone,
Aloneness is the road that diverged in the wood,
The two-forked road that mends my decisions.
Poignant
Poignant is not a word
but theater every day.
It's the sweetest act most hidden
from the one who wrote the play.
Packaged in small to medium
it often goes unseen; never
tedium to the driven
who would rather climb than dream.
In speeches, books and interviews
of noted women and men,
Poignant never comes to mind
until they reach the end.
Dust gathers
on the sleeves of morning,
while sunlight hides
inside tired hands.
The city wakes slowly...
steel shutters,
factory smoke,
a kettle singing
in a worker's kitchen.
Someone walks toward another day,
carrying yesterday's exhaustion
like an invisible country
upon their back.
Yet dawn persists,
breaking through cracked pavements
and the stubborn courage
of ordinary people.
Flags rise like restless birds.
Voices gather
like rain before the storm.
Even silence
learns a different breath.
For every road,
every tower,
every window lit after dark
has passed through
the hands of someone unseen.
And somewhere
beneath the noise of the world,
a quiet truth endures:
No life is ever small.
Copyright@farukahmedroni
We live our lives as if there will always be another day,
often taking advantage of those around us,
much like an alcoholic unaware of their addiction
or a tobacco smoker oblivious to the smell of smoke.
It often takes someone pointing out the changes for us
to truly see and understand our impact to things around us.
a free fervent feel
kindled by an unseen light~
friend that makes us heal
a fragile thread spun
holds the unknown, whispers hope~
trust what not yet won.
sunlight through the clouds,
a sudden warmth upon the face~
winds dispel the shrouds.
doubt's chill breeze may blow,
testing the weave, stretching out~
still, the string does glow
night stollers alone
guided by a distant glow~
belief in unknown
seeds beneath the soil
unseen growth, a patient wait~
life shines through one`s toil
when all seems vanished
when the path is lost to sigh~
guiding faith cherished
a gentle whisper,
across the vast and silent space~
trust turning crisper.
more than simple verse
a living, breathing essence~
holds the universe.
Midnight draped darkness around like a shroud
The silence though was like stone on air
'Twas paused by ambulance's weighted cloud
Our vows once spoken, now beyond despair
Now night seems to press in upon my hand
Shadows fill corners of my old worn mind
Then a spark springs forth that needs to be fanned
That tiny light spark knows hope I'll soon find
Once buried seed dreams of spring's sun warm glow
Deep within, silent faith endures long, strong
My hope and faith are not fragile, but flow
Whisper, come forth let your love go in song
Dark that enshrouded me release today
My heart has some hope and will find a way
They look right past the trailer door,
And talk as if I’m never there.
"She doesn't fish," I hear him say,
A heavy truth hangs in the air.
But no one casts a line my way,
Or ask if I would like to ride.
They only ask me to babysit,
And leave my own desires inside.
They feel as if I were a hermit,
I am never asked to see a movie or share a meal.
But I’m just waiting in the shade,
Inside this quiet box of steel.
Tucked tight into the yard’s far edge trying not to fade,
A quiet life behind the screen.
The anchor, holding down the fort,
The forgotten one, who stays unseen,
Always a good sport.
Some things in life do not resonate
For they mostly only ever repulse
The saddest of humanity tempts fate
Or blames the heart for broken clarity
While the dutiful of mankind joins in love to protect entire communities
And seek out new purpose with grace while releasing senseless vanity.
Hollow hope
in trusting eyes
endless trauma pain
clouds spirit
glazed distant stare
lingers
a treasure to behold
to be content
with near nothing
an invaluable lesson
for the western world
survival for the unseen
depends on this
("Eye of Storm" aka "Tibetan Blue Poppy", 2017, original mixed media encaustic)
Winds blow
Shifting around an axis
Intuited unseen
Alone I feel in the dark
Alone just me and It
And the shifting wind
Waiting for something
A kind of clarity
A kind of knowing
A kind of wisdom
That only time will tell
I was so young
And now so old
But nothing
Ever really changed
Falling ever falling
Without a ground
And still here I am
Working to see
What is always only
Just sight unseen
(6/9/26)
Beyond the veil where ancient shadows sleep,
A quiet signal breaks the cosmic cold.
A sudden truth we only dared to keep,
Now written in the data, clear and bold.
We tune our instruments to read the deep,
And watch a world of wonders unfold.
Scars are better –
Better than the unseen wounds,
That penetrates deep down my heart
And make me a sour person,
Which I wasn't,
Scars are better than the incurable pain,
Those unseen daggers carved onto me,
SCARS are better-
Much better as they may be cured,
But this grief, this loss, not at all,
These can fade-
But the wounds that penetrate deep down,
Can never be cured,
Can never be cured-
That breaks the myth of being left alone,
Encouraging the Idea –
To Embrace the Void, The VOID that we still hold…
Outter beauty doesn't even begin to reflect your inner beauty
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