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Poem
Under an amber sky, in a world of rock and cactus,
I feel like a fragment of a dream, feeding my desires from harsh stones and dry winds,
I, a dwindling minority, lost in the eternal dance of pavement and deals,
while the world around me dresses in new clothes, shimmering in fine saloons,
and I feel crushed between huge plates, cultures like merciless giants,
grinding me into a very fine dust, a star dust lost in the night.
In a corner of the desert, under an amethyst sky, I listen to my heart beating
like an old drum, its echo resonating through forgotten canyons and valleys,
and I wonder if there is still a place for poets in this world of concrete and glass,
where our souls are sold in markets of illusions and empty promises,
and where every desire is buried under layers of dust and oblivion.
I see myself as a lone cactus, my roots delving deep into the rock,
seeking the water of life in the depths of the earth, while the winds whisper to me
the secrets of old days, when the sky was an ocean of light and dreams floated freely,
but now, I feel caught between two worlds, between my wild past and my narrow present,
and I wonder if I will ever find a way to escape this prison of time.
Every night, under the silver moon, I sing my lost melody,
my verses flowing like rivers of tears, filling the valley of shadows,
and I pray that someone, somewhere, will hear my call, will feel my pain,
for only then, perhaps, we can break the chains that bind us to this land of illusions,
and we can dance again under the free sky, as free spirits, as dreams of light.
But until then, I, a dwindling minority, will continue to feed my soul
from rocks and cactus and dry winds, for in those moments, I feel alive,
and even if the world crushes me, grinds me into a very fine dust,
I know that in that dust, in those particles of star dust, lies eternal magic,
so I will continue to dream, to hope, to love, even in the face of oblivion.
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