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Poem

In the depths of our being, where thoughts intertwine with uncertain dreams,
there lies an error born from the womb of time, like an echo of origins,
the belief that we exist solely to embrace happiness as a cloak of light,
but as long as we persist in this illusion that dances on the edge of the abyss,
and even allow ourselves to be convinced by optimistic dogmas promising clear skies,
the world appears to us full of contradictions, like a labyrinth of deceptive mirrors,
where the shadows of truth break into distorted and ephemeral reflections,
for in the pursuit of happiness we overlook the depth of cosmic silences,
where each moment of clarity is a gift from the universe whispering secrets,
yet we, thirsty for the absolute, chase illusions like children thirsty for stories,
while life flows like a silent river in the valley of time, without waiting for us,
and thus, we learn to look beyond the thin veil of fleeting expectations,
seeking hidden meanings in every whisper of the wind that blows among the stars,
and in every shadow that dances on the walls of our hearts, longing for peace.

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