the ego
is a twisted thing,
like an anchor
with no string.
rooted deep
in silent fears,
whispering doubts
through passing years.
each echo,
like a spider’s thread,
binds the heart
in chilling dread.
it weaves a web
of cruel disguise,
twisting truths
with hollow lies.
yet in the silence,
stillness calls —
a quiet hymn
beyond the walls.
wisdom rises
like morning’s glow,
soft and sure,
it begins to flow.
no longer whispers,
but a steady stream —
a truth unveiled,
no longer a dream.
the heart ascends —
untethered, free,
released from
ego’s tyranny.
for within the quiet,
love takes flight,
unveiling stars
that pierce the night.
in the depths of self,
a garden grows;
where doubt once lived,
now beauty shows.
the heart, unbound,
begins to sing —
a fearless soul
on love’s own wing.
© 2025 Corvalya