Alive @ 12:05
Everyone is asleep.
No lights behind windows.
No distant cars pulling memory behind them.
Just the hum of the refrigerator.
I step outside.
The stars are not waiting for me, they have always been here,
radiating stories that took centuries to arrive,
only to fall on this small patch of Earth,
where I stand without a witness.
I feel them more than see them.
They do not blink or bow to loneliness.
They persist, quiet, burning, alone, together.
Is this what it means to belong without being held?
To be seen without being spoken to?
To matter, simply because you exist in a place that is vast?
So vast, that even to be forgotten by it means you were here.. somehow.
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El Bzaz
I write poetry in my spare time, usually when something clicks or catches my attention. Just whatever feels worth putting into words.
View all poems →▾ This Poem's Voice
Your Poem's Voice
Personal observation anchored in concrete moment, develops toward existential/philosophical belonging.
Moderate density; meditative pacing with accumulating philosophical questions toward end.
Melancholic but ultimately affirming; loneliness reframed as connection and cosmic significance.
Quiet, introspective voice; sparse movement; contemplative rather than kinetically intense.
Approximately 20 lines; falls in 16-30 range.
Strong metaphor (stars as witnesses/stories); personification (stars persist, burn); some ornate phrasing.
Pure lyric internal voice; first-person meditation with no narrative or dramatic persona shift.
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