In a world that moves too fast, too loud,
Where meaning hides beneath a crowd,
A different mind stands still, alone,
In senses sharpened into stone.
The light cuts deep, the noise takes form,
Each sound a pulse, a rising storm;
What others pass without a thought
Becomes a battle hard and fraught.
Words don’t come, or break apart,
Like fragile glass within the heart;
Yet oceans turn where none can see,
In depths of quiet intensity.
The body speaks when speech is gone,
In urgent waves that carry on
Hands that move, not wild, but true,
To hold the self the whole way through.
No easy mask to wear or keep,
No borrowed script, no rhythm cheap;
Just raw existence, stark and clear,
A life that will not disappear.
They call it loss, they call it less,
They measure worth in what’s expressed;
But there are truths too vast to show
In ways the world will ever know.
So here you stand, beyond their frame,
Unchanged by judgment, word, or name;
A different orbit, fierce and far
Not broken just a heavier star.
About the Poetess
Arya Jha is a 14 year old girl who is a class 10th student of St. Franscis School; Deoghar, Jharkhand.
