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Poem

Under the dark sky of the night,
where stars are born without paperwork and the moon changes its shape without notice,
I lose myself in waves of thoughts that flow like a river without banks,
In a world where every person wears their number like a star on their forehead,
where every soul has a label and a barcode,
I wonder,
where is the magic that hid behind the eyes of childhood?
In a parallel universe,
where birds fly without passports,
and flowers bloom without asking the seasons for permission,
There exists an uncomprehended freedom,
a beauty that refuses to be framed in glass boxes,
But we, civilized people,
turn our backs on these wonders,
fearing that without classification,
everything will collapse into endless chaos.
Oh, how deluded we are,
believing that our fragile thoughts keep the order of the universe in check,
As if without our identity cards,
the stars would fall from the sky and the oceans would retreat into the core of the earth,
We fear the unknown, the irregular,
everything that cannot be bounded by lines and numbers.
But in the silence of the night,
when the wind whispers ancient stories from the dawn of time,
I feel my heart beating to the rhythm of a forgotten song,
an echo of a world that was never numbered,
never framed,
And I lose myself in this stream of consciousness,
like a river flowing back to its primordial source,
unafraid of disappearing into the vastness of the unknown.
Maybe, one day,
we will learn to live without clinging to these rigid structures,
Maybe we will rediscover the magic that needs no certification,
the beauty that is born from chaos,
And then, when we let go of labels and numbers,
we will truly see the brilliance of the stars,
free and boundless like our souls.

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