A Craving Grave
There is a hunger beneath the earth,
older than names, older than birth
a silence that learns to breathe in stone,
and calls the living back as its own.
It waits with patience carved in bone-time,
where clocks dissolve and endings rhyme.
And when men rise with fire in their hands,
and women build with dreaming plans,
it opens wide its patient seam
a mouth beneath the human dream.
Not loud, not cruel, not dressed in rage,
but slow as ink on a closing page.
It swallows the bold with unfinished songs,
the thinkers who knew where they belonged,
the hands still warm with works undone,
the minds still racing toward the sun.
No crown resists its quiet claim,
no title survives without a name.
The gifted, the driven, the bright, the sure
all find its pull impossible to endure.
Yet still we build, and still we climb,
we borrow breath from borrowed time.
For even knowing how it waits,
we still arrive at folding gates.
O craving grave, so deep, so wide,
you hold what the living cannot hide:
that every rise, however vast,
must one day learn to rest at last. #news #Featured #entertainment #Newsletter #Newsletter #politics #CelebrityNews #ForYourInformation #politics #ForYourInformation #AppFeed #sports #music #opinion #NewsVideo #Worldnews #SMH #donaldtrump #entertainmentculture #crime #ForYourViewingPleasure #humaninterest #lifestyle #ForDiscussion #health #GossipVideo #Education #video #socialissues #WeeklyColumns
There is a hunger beneath the earth,
older than names, older than birth
a silence that learns to breathe in stone,
and calls the living back as its own.
It waits with patience carved in bone-time,
where clocks dissolve and endings rhyme.
And when men rise with fire in their hands,
and women build with dreaming plans,
it opens wide its patient seam
a mouth beneath the human dream.
Not loud, not cruel, not dressed in rage,
but slow as ink on a closing page.
It swallows the bold with unfinished songs,
the thinkers who knew where they belonged,
the hands still warm with works undone,
the minds still racing toward the sun.
No crown resists its quiet claim,
no title survives without a name.
The gifted, the driven, the bright, the sure
all find its pull impossible to endure.
Yet still we build, and still we climb,
we borrow breath from borrowed time.
For even knowing how it waits,
we still arrive at folding gates.
O craving grave, so deep, so wide,
you hold what the living cannot hide:
that every rise, however vast,
must one day learn to rest at last. #news #Featured #entertainment #Newsletter #Newsletter #politics #CelebrityNews #ForYourInformation #politics #ForYourInformation #AppFeed #sports #music #opinion #NewsVideo #Worldnews #SMH #donaldtrump #entertainmentculture #crime #ForYourViewingPleasure #humaninterest #lifestyle #ForDiscussion #health #GossipVideo #Education #video #socialissues #WeeklyColumns
