Christopher James Dimitriadis

Contributor

A hush lingers in the quiet room,

Where golden light hums against the walls,

Soft as a whisper, gentle as breath—

A presence unnoticed, yet never absent.

It flickers, not from weakness, but knowing,

Dancing between shadows and sight,

Never demanding, only offering

A warmth that some forget to seek.

Fingertips trace its edges,

But grasping it proves impossible—

For it is not meant to be held,

Only felt in fleeting moments.

And still, it remains, unwavering,

Through the weight of silence,

Through the closing of doors,

Through the nights when no one looks.