Between two worlds the highway flows,
Where sea-song meets the river’s prose.
Waves kiss the shore in tender grace,
While time slips by, a silent trace.
Each curve a memory shaped by tide,
Each breeze a whisper you can’t hide.
The road moves on, yet moments stay—
In hearts that paused along the way.
Not just a path where waters meet,
But a quiet place where hearts skip a beat
Is it just land and water’s play?
Or is it where lost souls find their way?
She walks alone, but not in fear,
Each step dissolves what once was near.
The walls are whispers, time-worn deep,
Of dreams that stirred while souls did sleep.
Isn’t it the way—from within, into becoming?
Isn’t it what a bud feels before blooming?
Isn’t it the story of nature in making—
A stillness before the miracle’s waking?
Light calls gently at the end—
Not as a finish, but as a friend.
A thousand selves she’s shed behind,
To meet the truth she’s yet to find.
For journeys start where endings glow,
And what we leave is what we grow.
She isn’t lost—she’s being made,
In shadows walked and light obeyed.
I gave myself not piece by piece,
But like the dusk dissolves in night—
No claim, no name, no tethered voice,
Just silence tuned to sacred light.
No joy is mine, no sorrow too,
What comes, I wear like passing rain.
The sun may scorch, the moon may soothe—
I feel no pride, I bear no pain.
A flute I am, in breath Divine,
Played when He wills, in tone or pause.
No self remains, no “me” to seek—
Just service, song, and silent cause.
This is my path, my peace, my prayer—
To lose myself, and find Him there.