Sacred Spaces
All places hold a silent song,
For they have been seen, they have been known
By hearts that wandered, lingered long,
Imbuing stone and earth with tone.
The bench beneath the maple tree,
Worn smooth by time and weather’s hand,
Was once the stage of love’s decree—
Or where its fragile vows did end.
A crossroads glows with fleeting chance,
A café hums with whispered schemes;
Each corner hosts a subtle dance,
Each space the canvas of someone’s dreams.
If we grant meaning to time and space,
Do we not weave, with every glance,
A world of Reason, Love, and Grace,
A fabric stitched by circumstance?
But what must we know to truly see
The worth a place can hold within?
What context hides its mystery,
What stories shape where we begin?
For one, a name is etched in wood,
A promise made to not forget;
Yet unmarked it is understood,
By thoughts it will not outlive yet.
The world may never be wholly clear,
For it’s drawn in hues of memory;
Its truth is blurred by joy and fear,
Its form shaped subjectively.
So tread the earth with wonder wide,
For every step brings tales untold.
Each place is vast, though undefined—
A trove of meaning, yours to hold.