Ink before Time

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Before the clocks could dare to tick,

Before the stars had learned to shine,

Silence stretched across the void—

A blank page, endless, divine.

Then came a whisper, soft, unseen,

Not sound, but something close to soul;

A trembling thought without a tongue—

The universe beginning to feel whole.

From that first spark, a rhythm formed,

A pulse that echoed into light;

And in its wake, the earliest verse

Was written in the dark of night.

No pen, no hand—just cosmic breath,

Carving meaning into space;

A poem born of fire and dust,

Each star a word, each void a space.

Through ages, it found human hearts,

In songs, in stories, in painted skies;

It lived in drums, in whispered prayers,

In tears that spoke what lips deny.

It shaped the world in subtle ways,

Turned wars to peace, gave hope a name;

For every soul that dared to feel

Became a verse within its frame.

And when the final star grows dim,

When time itself forgets its role,

The poem will hum in fading light—

The last soft echo of the whole.

For even then, in ending’s breath,

Where all returns to quiet art,

The universe will close its eyes…

With one last poem in its heart.

Written by

NALWANGA CLAIRE

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