Writers' Spectrum

By Greeva Shah

My thoughts wear no color,

They shimmer, shift—like light on water,

A prism dancing to the tune of time,

Never still, never silent.

They bend with the moment’s breath,

A spectrum born of joy, ache, and wonder,

Each hue a whisper, each note a pulse,

Blending into the music of now.

I am not the brightest star,

But I burn in rhythms only the soul can hear.

Not to dazzle, but to guide—

A flicker in someone else's dark.

I was once a stone,

Unturned, unseen, untouched.

But even silence has a shape,

And even shadows dream of light.

So, I write—not to shine,

But to echo.

Not to be known,

But to be felt.

By Greeva Shah