Sorrows call

In shadows deep, where tears may flow,
Sorrow dwells, a relentless woe.
A heavy heart, burdened and worn,
In the stillness of night, it is often born.

It weaves its threads through silent sighs,
Painting the world in muted skies.
Aching souls in the moon's soft glow,
Seek solace in the depths of sorrow's flow.

Yet, in this darkness, seeds of strength reside,
For from sorrow's depths, we learn to bide.
To rise above, to find the morrow's grace,
In sorrow's embrace, we find our own space.

With time, like a river, it may gently fade,
Leaving wisdom and memories in its shade.
For even in sorrow's darkest hour,
There's a glimmer of hope, a hidden power.

So let us embrace sorrow's gentle art,
For it can mend and heal the wounded heart.
In the ebb and flow of life's endless sea,
Sorrow, too, can set our spirits free.