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In a world of illusions, where great and small liars play chess with destinies,
Curtains of smoke dance on the stage of time, hiding unwritten truths,
On a black canvas, they paint empty words, with brushes of dirty silver,
And in deep pockets they gather shattered dreams, like stones from a silent river.
Under the mask of saviors, they wear their crowns of smoke, kings without kingdoms,
With promises that glitter like stars on winter nights, cold and lonely,
But the curtain of fear, like a spider's web woven in haste, falls heavy,
Covering the eyes of the world, until light becomes a distant memory.
At each raising of the curtain, a new act begins, with faceless heroes,
With stories told by unseen puppeteers, who play their pieces in silence,
And while we applaud, blinded by the glare of cold spotlights,
They count the shadows that gather, like heavy rain clouds at sunset.
But where is hope when the stage sinks under the weight of silence?
When our dreams are bound with chains of smoke and broken promises?
When great and small liars continue their ballet on the mirror of water,
The need for awakening becomes a cry lost through the waves of night.
In this world of spectacle, truth hides like a butterfly in flight,
But beyond the curtain, light waits, like a flower in the desert of forgetting,
For even in darkness, a spark can ignite a sea of stars,
And perhaps one day, we will dare to look beyond the dream.
This is the call of those who no longer want to be silent spectators,
But actors of their own destinies, with truths that demand their right to life,
To rise from our seats, like birds reborn from ashes,
And tell the world that their play has ended, that light is the true stage.
For in the face of liars, great and small, we are a sea of souls,
And in our waves lies the power to change the story of time,
To open windows toward a universe without cemeteries at the threshold,
Where we no longer fear shadows, but embrace light like an old friend.
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