Silent Solace

Black is not the ending, black is life, A quiet blanket for a world of strife. It does not judge the ruin or the stain, But gently covers every weary pain. When you are broken, it becomes your space, A silent solace and a resting place. Here you can weep without a pointing hand, Without the pressure to be whole or grand. It listens to the talker and the mute, A sacred shelter, calm and absolute. No eyes to make you feel a freak, no wall— Within the dark, there is a place for all.