What flies yet never flees? What sees but never shuts its eyes? A bird twists riddles in its beak Wings curled like broken maps It asks: What moves the unseen gears? What holds the world without a grasp? There’s no answer in the wind No truth in shadows cast Only questions shape the edges As the moment splits and cracks The sphinx waits on hollow horizons Claws carving silence into stone Its smile holds the weight of knowing But its gaze burns you to the bone Not all questions seek an answer— Some are meant to be alone The bird replies: Meaning is the cage Built from bars of seeking minds Its song spirals out like whispers Pulling threads no one can bind The sphinx leans in, the glyphs ignite What holds the riddle When the answer hides? The sphinx waits on hollow horizons Claws carving silence into stone Its smile holds the weight of knowing But its gaze burns you to the bone Not all questions seek an answer Some are meant to be alone What is the leap without the void? What is the fall without the air? The feather descends, a cipher undone A symbol stripped bare What breathes without flesh? What holds but does not touch? The wind folds inward A quiet scream The sky swallows all things The feathers, the flight, the silence Even the weight Of what’s left unsaid What holds the riddle when the answer disappears?