How many times have I been a whisper,
a fleeting sonder passing by,
a ghost of weight, of battles fought,
a light reborn where ruins lie?

I wonder how many I have seen,
a face in a crowd and never known
the weight they carried, the battles fought,
the light rekindled from shattered bones.

How many others have felt unseen,
just a weary stranger passing by,
encased with stormy clouds,
the light reclaimed from a shattered sky.