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Poem

We are asleep under the dome of dreams that dance in secrecy,
in a labyrinth of shadows where time whispers forgotten tales.
We step on carpets of stars woven from the threads of deep night,
seeking the hidden light in the cracks of silver silence.
In our slumber, life is a river winding through the abyss,
where each thought is a seagull searching for its lost flight.
We dream we are sculpted from moon dust and the powder of desires,
floating among clouds of silk that carry the echo of old memories.
But sometimes we awaken like a butterfly opening its wings,
feeling how the air becomes a song reviving the hidden silence.
In those moments, our hearts beat like divine clocks,
measuring eternity in the fragile pulse of the boundless universe.
We return to the dream, carrying with us the sparkle of an eternal moment,
like a guiding star illuminating the path in the endless night,
reminding us that we are awake in our own symphony of dreams,
carrying in our souls the echo of a world beyond dreaming and time.

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