Member Poem

The Nether—shrouded in silence,
a shadowed realm where light is foreign,
unyielding to change,
resistant to hope.
Yet somewhere,
a spark flickers—
fragile, but defiant.

A lone soul,
a mouse caught in this cruel maze,
wanders lost,
its tiny breath heavy with fear.
The more it moves,
the more the world resists.
Each step—
a war against the unseen.

Like nations circling past mistakes,
it spins in patterns,
trapped in walls built
by history, hunger, hate.
It gasps—
not just for air,
but for meaning,
for mercy.

But the Nether does not speak.
It watches.
Silent.
And the mouse,
like millions,
remains unheard,
still searching
for a door.