Whispers of the Hollow Chorus

Whispers of the Hollow Chorus

A clamor rises from the gilded tongues,
Their words a brittle hymn of flattery,
Unsettling the calm, the steady souls.

Far off, a panther keens through dusk,
Its hunger blind to cunning’s weave,
A primal chase beneath the stars’ disdain.

Reeds hum soft under fleeting steps,
Each blade kissed gold by dawn’s embrace,
Yet stained by restless human sighs.

The air grows thick with craving’s pulse,
A thirst for strife that chars the spirit,
Draining life from quiet, beating cores.

Petty minds sift through ash and sham,
Clutching falsehoods like fragile gems,
Blind to time’s slow, leveling hand.

When revels fade to embers cold,
The crowd turns sharp its brittle rage,
Against the free who greet the morn unshackled.