HOLLOW ECHOES - A POEM BY WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

HOLLOW ECHOES

The darkest hour, a gift in poisoned guise,
A canvas stark where shadows twist and crawl.
No practiced smile, no sugar-coated lies,
But rawest essence, standing proud and tall.
"Oh, how I grieve," the painted mourner sighs,
While counting favors, watching fortunes fall.
The loyal hound, with clear and steady eyes,
Remains, though riches vanish from the hall.
So thank the void, the howling, bleak despair,
For stripping masks, revealing what's beneath.
The hollow echoes of a whispered prayer,
The sudden bloom of true, unwavering faith.
A sterling show! The truest, grandest test:
When all is lost, who proves themselves the best?

WILLIAMSJI MAVELI