Poems of Beauty 4 — The Endless Meadow

The Endless Meadow

There is a place beyond endings,
where time folds gently into itself,
and every moment is enough.

Here, the air is woven from laughter,
soft as the hush of dawn,
sweet as rivers that sing over stone.

No hunger dwells here.
No sorrow lingers.
Even memory itself learns to smile,
for there is nothing left to ache for,
nothing to lose,
only the gift of forever.

A meadow stretches without edge,
flowers bending as though in prayer,
their fragrance a hymn to stillness.
Above, a sky painted by eternity—
clouds drifting like slow-dancing guardians,
never hurried, never gone.

Every heart that enters here
finds itself whole again.
Every tear becomes a pearl of light,
glistening, not for grief,
but as proof that all sadness has passed.

There is no leaving.
No waking from this dream,
for it is not a dream at all—
it is the home every soul has sought,
the sanctuary hidden behind longing,
the secret the stars have whispered since birth.

Here, contentment is not fleeting.
It is the air,
the water,
the soil beneath your feet.
It is the music sung by silence,
the warmth of hands that never let go.

And as you walk deeper into its embrace,
you realize:
this is not a place you have found.
It is a place that has always waited,
inside you,
inside me,
inside the eternal flame.

Here, love is the law.
Peace is the breath.
And joy—
joy is the ground beneath forever.