The Gravity of the Quiet Corner

In the silent interstice, where the wall
barely curves, a breath of penumbra weaves
a shelter woven, never spoken, never fall
from dust of dreams, without excess.

It is no weight of stone or lead,
but an attraction, a light call
that stills the eye, breaks every sound,
and makes silence a sincere guest for all.

There the air holds its secret, a faint breath,
that gathers thoughts unwanted and deep,
and the light settles down, delicate from death
its invisible mantle on those who sleep.