The Digitalmehmet Content Ecosystem

The Silent Song, our health, our thread,
The rhythm where all life is led.
It barely whispers, yet it soars us up high,
A delicate present that nothing can buy.

It is the music of our hearts,
The constant beat where everything grows.
The feeling of being one and whole and all that,
The lullaby that hugs a baby.

But at times, it is true we do forget it.
A worn treasure, cast aside in both our doubts.
We run after the world, its short-lived light,
And the result we have is the humiliation of our body.

Its shade, though tall, is disease.
He, a song of sorrow, we listen to.
And then only, with clearer ears,
We feel the sweet melody that we once cherished.

The times we went by unthoughtful, unaware,
Of bright innocence and steps owned by care,
Each tune we were unable to sing,
Recurs now in pain.

The body is the vessel of recovery even now, the spell to cure oneself.
It begs for love, for rest, for kindness,
Hope to be the resounding song.

So let us hear, straight and clear,
To the health of the sweet symphony of the new.
Tender moment by tender moment,
Reshapes the song, brings back the air.

For health is a hymn, not just flesh.
The full truth: love for self.
Life’s own music beats are melody,
Stars that guide in times of darkness.

Friend, hold on to health’s tune that stays unequivocally,
Food’s tenderness, of course, its softness, too.
In the end, there is a song we will find that we are worth it—The silent sound of life on Earth.

NOTE: This poem is first/originally published on MEDIUM.