Zoe Gentle Dark Ambient

Twilight gathers the light into a strand of pale gold,
quietly letting it fall into that ink-black still water.
The surface lies rippleless, like a black mirror polished by years,
reflecting no sky—only silence itself.

The gate stands quietly erect,
its iron body’s rust spots in the dusk
like wounds that will never heal.
The instrument panel’s pointers curl at zero,
like a sleeping fetus,
no longer chasing the torrent of time.

Yet from somewhere unknown deep within the iron frame,
comes a low, muffled resonance—
as if the metal lungs were drawing one belated exhalation,
or like a numbed heart
struggling alone inside its iron shell.

This sound is like a hidden string,
silently resonating
with the twilight water, the instrument panel, the heavy gate,
and those cooled old nails one by one.
I say nothing,
leaving all contemplation
to the iron beneath the golden dusk
that still refuses to fall completely asleep.

https://youtu.be/ekGT-Aql4w4

4 weeks ago | [YT] | 0

Zoe Gentle Dark Ambient

He sits alone at the end of the bench,
cheek pressed against the cold metal handrail.
The empty carriage—
like that endless corridor from childhood,
door after door
opening forever onto the same black night—
carries a string of forgotten old dreams,
suspended above rails
with neither beginning nor end in sight.

Clang—clang—clang—
Who is repairing tracks in the darkness?
The rhythm unhurried, as if someone in memory
were hammering nails, one by one,
into the coffin lid of bygone days.

Drip—drop—drip—drop—
Which pipe is leaking somewhere above?
Each drop falls into the pool of time,
rippling outward in circles
that blur
the face of the past,
the face of the future,
his own face.

The dream arrives.
It says nothing, only rocks the carriage more gently,
like the cradle his mother once used to lull him to sleep.
But beneath the cradle lies an abyss,
and in the abyss hide all the farewells
never spoken aloud.

Clang—clang—clang—
Drip—drop—drip—drop—
Gradually,
time itself seems to grow weary,
willing to pause here for a brief moment.

He opens his eyes.
The carriage remains empty,
the tunnel endless as ever.
Yet suddenly he understands:
this train moves neither forward
nor backward.
It simply hangs suspended in the dream,
allowing past and future
to reach out wordlessly and clasp hands,
in bottomless depth of the Present.

https://youtu.be/UawsPMuClHo

1 month ago | [YT] | 0

Zoe Gentle Dark Ambient

Green lightning leaps out crackling
from its cracked ribs,
like a band of children who refuse to grow old
Playing fireworks in the ruins.


Sparks fall upon the damp ground,
like snow on skin—
melting at a touch.
They never struggle,
only sing in their serene and fleeting burn:


The discarded,
the rusted,
the forgotten by time,
in a single second
will suddenly recall
they were born
to burn.


So don't rush to abandon
your old wounds, old pains,
old disappointments, old names.
One day,
in the deepest night,
you will hear them in your ribs
crackling as they light up on their own.


In that moment,
you will understand:
Ruins are not the end,
they are currents tracing rust-speckled paths
along a colossal Tesla coil,
finding their way home once more.


The ground,
as if kissed,
quietly
glows.

https://youtu.be/L_teKVYK4-A

1 month ago | [YT] | 0

Zoe Gentle Dark Ambient

You think you are doom to shatter.
Yet at the very moment the waves are loudest,
the reefs hardest,
the ice wall thickest,
you suddenly hear
a voice deeper than the ocean,

blunter than the rock,
more certain than the solid ice:

“I am here.”

The waves do not stop.
The reefs are not moved.
The frost does not melt.
The Presence stands in the heart of the surge,
stands atop the jagged reefs,
stands inside the frozen lamp.

It does not pull you out of the storm—
It joins you until you become the storm itself.
It gathers your blood where it stains the rocks red,
It makes the frost the greatest lens of all,
so that one day
the lighthouse glory will explode through the ice
and reach the shore you thought you would never see.

So do not beg the waves to still.
Keep breathing.
Keep bleeding.
Keep standing.
In a storm, the loudest sound
has never been the storm.
It is always that consice declaration:

“I am here.”

The wind blows the salt across your lips,
so you taste the shore
before your feet ever touch it.

https://youtu.be/buc8aRGTC3s

1 month ago | [YT] | 0