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Abstract Black Flower Art

Whispers of Becoming
By Concetta Pipia

 

The change arrives, not with a cry, but a whisper,
Like the dying light that sighs into the night.
It is the trembling of the soul,
Not seen but felt, as the earth shifts beneath us.
We are caught between what we were and what we must become,
Between the silence of the past and the uncertainty of the future.

A shadow lingers where once there was form,
And we—are we the same, or something new?
In this space, all things are born and undone,
The stone crumbles to dust, and the seed—
What does it know of its becoming?
Perhaps, we are no more than its shadow,
Fading softly into the light we do not see.

How quietly we transform,
Not in the moments of triumph,
But in the pauses between breaths,
Where the eternal touches the transient,
And all that was ends, only to begin again.

Image by Thought Catalog

Concetta Pipia was born and raised in New York City and is a published poet and writer of verse and prose.  Her poetry appears in National and International anthologies and literary magazines. Ms. Pipia is a member of the Editorial Board of "Different Truths" as well as a member of Writers Capital International.

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