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Beneath the stretched-out, nocturnal firmament, thoughts overwhelm my being,
Questions unassuaged by answers, echo of the void,
About forests of the future, trees with waiting roots,
About children from untold dreams, with smiles that cannot be found.
Those books with pages lamenting for the ink's caress,
How they remain closed in the drawers of oblivion, begun and never finished,
Phantoms of words unspoken lay heavy on my parched tongue,
Stories conceived in the soul open new worlds, but they don't birth them.
I'm haunted by these staffs who've been unsummoned, unallowed to exist,
Every failed step, each heavy silence laden with the inability to voice,
In every unequipped dream, in every yearning pieced with the unspoken,
On the blank pages, in the unorchestrated symphonies of the insatiable heart.
I will not understand, in this dock-life laid out in seconds,
What the call of the clouds that never rained on me would have been,
Whether the stubborn stems that insist on rising to the light, the sources of laughter that winds haven't carried,
The readings that could have been savored, the stories that should have been lived.
Garlands of uncertainties will become my crown until my last breath,
And perhaps beyond the barricade of existence, where the violin's flames extinguish,
Questioning remains hidden in the soul's chamber: have I spoken what needed to be spoken?
Is it enough what I've dug out, spread, or has everything submerged without echo, in forgetfulness?
Every dusk brings me these torches of thought not taken to the end,
To paths untrodden, to stories on destiny’s lips, unembraced,
To unsanctified lives, to fairytales woven into the heart's depths and then lost,
And I immerse myself in the solitary, vast question of the silent chamber: what might have been, if...?
But in the enchantment of this waltz of time, of birth and disappearance,
In the grayness of these thoughts, these fleeting reveries that transmute into melancholy,
I discover a translucent mastery, in the unseen that extends its hand to me,
And in the fog of what will forever be hidden, I find a magical way to be.
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