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In the womb of darkness, where time yawns and existence curls like a cold body,
souls slip between silences like smoke searching for a face.
Nothing moves but fear,
nothing is heard but the trembling of the heart.
Then suddenlyβ
lightning slits the chest of stillness with a scream of fire,
as if God remembered to whisper in the ear of the night.
Eyes freeze for a moment,
bathed in ecstasy.
That light is not salvationβ¦
but a raw unveiling of truth.
Darkness is no longer a veilβ
it becomes a witness,
and lightning, a judge.
And the soul, caught in between,
trembles⦠and smiles.
