Walking the Edge Of Silence
He walks
the edge of things,
not for thrill,
but because the center holds no welcome.
What was once a life
now drags like loose thread—
unraveling in silence,
no protest,
no plea.
Friends became ghosts
long before they left.
Family: a word
too large for the absence it holds.
He stopped trying to explain.
They stopped trying to care.
But the dogs—
two tired shadows at his feet—
still follow him through wind and winter.
They ask nothing.
They know everything.
Their breath keeps time
with the broken metronome of his heart.
He tells himself
he stays for them,
and it’s true.
He could not bear to vanish
while their eyes still search the door,
while their paws still trust the earth
to bring him back.
To leave them—
is to sentence the loyal
to bewilderment and slow hunger.
It would mark his soul
with a wound that no grave could close.
He would carry their pain
through whatever came next.
And he will not do that to them.
And the stories—
the ones that ache behind his ribs,
the ones that come in fragments,
half-formed,
sacred—
if he leaves before they’re set down,
if he lets them scatter
as dust on the wind,
they will not forgive him.
They will burn.
Not into ash,
but into him.
He will carry their fire
in his marrow,
an eternal blaze of almost-said
and never-told.
So he waits.
Not for redemption.
Not for rescue.
But for the right endings.
He will not go
while fur brushes his skin
and old eyes still seek his face.
He will not go
while words still pace the cage
of his chest.
But when the last paw stills,
and the final page is written—
when the dogs sleep,
and the stories find their names—
he will know.
And he will go,
not with rage,
not with sorrow,
but with the hush of one
who gave all he had
before the silence.
Support Independent Content Creation
I know, I know, I know...
These donation messages can be intrusive. I understand that. (Trust me, I feel awkward writing them too!)
But reaching out like this is crucial. Being reader-funded gives my work something valuable that many content creators don't have: true independence.
1. Your support means I can write about what matters. I'm not chasing sponsorships or compromising my voice to please advertisers. I can pursue stories and topics I believe are important, creative, and thoughtful, regardless of their commercial appeal.
2. Your support means I don't have to chase viral trends. Instead of engineering clickbait or jumping on every passing bandwagon, I can focus on creating thoughtful content that genuinely adds value to your life.
3. Your support means this content remains freely accessible. My work stays available to everyone, including those who can't afford to contribute financially right now. Quality independent content should be accessible to all.
I understand not everyone is in a position to contribute, but if you found any value in this post you can
For the price of a coffee, you'll enable me to invest more time in creating in-depth, creative journal posts and episodes of the Stone & Signal podcast. If you'd like to contribute more, consider purchasing one of my e-books (priced at roughly two cups of coffee) – a way to support my work while gaining additional value for yourself.
Thank you for considering. Your support makes all the difference.
Comments
Post a Comment