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Poem

In the shadow of time, the soul finds solace,
We wonder why the years lay down in silence,
Why we remain closed, like birds refusing flight,
Seeking hidden meaning in the language of flowers toward the sun.
We close ourselves, like old, forgotten books,
Misunderstood by time, which watches with cold eyes,
We, who love words, are lost,
Searching for ourselves in every verse written with hope.
Perhaps in losing, we will discover the pure essence,
That something which makes us eternal, beyond time,
In a world where souls flow like rivers,
Leaving behind only the longing for what might have been.
If only we had the courage to lose ourselves completely,
To surrender to the wind whispering secrets,
A wind that calls us to embrace fragility,
To lose ourselves to find ourselves whole.
Perhaps only then, carried by the waves of the unknown,
We will understand the true freedom of being,
Carving our path among the dancing stars,
Carrying us to places where memories become real.
There, poets always find their place,
Even when the world no longer believes,
In their songs, forever anachronistic,
Obsolete, yet permanently contemporaneous.

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