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I rise from the body of silence,
with heavy steps of ash and cold.
The sky is a wound stitched with wire,
the clouds hang like the empty eyes of a forgotten God.
The light no longer falls, no longer caresses,
it only breaks under its own weight.

You watch me from behind the world,
but the world is a cracked mirror,
where each shard reflects a lie.
The walls devour their own shadows,
the cities hide their names in dust,
and time passes through you
without leaving any trace on your skin.

You draw near, but nothing moves,
neither the wind, nor the stone, nor the last thought.
Everything you touch crumbles before it takes shape,
everything you love scatters like a prayer
that no one remembers anymore.

But beyond the darkness,
where forgetfulness digs its graves,
a flame still flickers beneath the ruins.
The road has not perished, it has only hidden,
and one day, without you knowing,
your feet will find it again.

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