Buried in Unfairness
In fading sands, whispers curl like thorns,
pale faces sink into indifferent earth.
Unspoken weights unravel bright forms to dust,
echoes unvoiced in hollow, helpless winds.
Resignation blooms in shadowed decay—
yet subtle grace gleams in the broken veil,
silence singing of enduring ruin.
AI Art Concept, images and videos done with Grok imagine, final video done in Adobe After Effects, music done with Suno
Buried in Unfairness [Long Poem]
In the hush of fading sands,
where whispers curl like withered branches,
two faces sink, pale as forgotten moons,
into the earth's indifferent embrace.
Unspoken weights press down,
truths that twist like thorns unseen,
a quiet unraveling, thread by thread,
where once-bright forms dissolve to dust.
Helpless winds howl through hollow bones,
carrying echoes of what cannot be voiced,
resignation blooms in shadowed corners,
a fragile flower in the grip of decay.
Yet in this slow surrender, a subtle grace—
the beauty of the broken, the imperfect veil,
where tarnished light gleams on eroded shores,
and silence sings of what endures in ruin.
Buried in Unfairness - Interim
Beneath the patient sands, pale faces rest,
whispers of unfair weight still curl like dry thorns.
whispers of unfair weight still curl like dry thorns.
Yet even in this slow sinking, something holds—
a quiet pulse beneath the dust, unbowed.
a quiet pulse beneath the dust, unbowed.
The wind that scatters speaks also of return,
of fragile green that breaks through cracked earth.
of fragile green that breaks through cracked earth.
Resignation softens into watchful pause;
in the broken veil, a faint gleam persists—
not loud, not whole, but stubbornly alive,
whispering that endings are never final.
in the broken veil, a faint gleam persists—
not loud, not whole, but stubbornly alive,
whispering that endings are never final.
Buried in Unfairness - Sequentia
Awake, and the light stings with truth too sharp,
unfairness settles like ash upon the tongue,
each breath a quiet requiem for what was never given back.
unfairness settles like ash upon the tongue,
each breath a quiet requiem for what was never given back.
