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Poem

In a forgotten corner of the world, where silences stretch like a carpet of mist,
My thoughts wander among the ruins of lives scattered by the wind,
Reminding me that wisdom and madness dance hand in hand,
Like two shadows merging under the pale light of an eternal sunset.
In the silence of an endless night, I contemplate the broken destinies,
A silent song of those who fell prey to their inner storms,
For only when ruin touches our own being do we truly understand,
For only then do we see clearly that the lost ones are our unknown brothers.
In the shadow of an existence unraveling like an old canvas,
I realize that the drunkards, the mad, the prisoners, and the dreamers are part of us,
People who wear invisible scars like medals of destiny,
They are as commonplace as a rainbow arching after a storm.
Memories intertwine like threads of silk in the wind of time,
And I understand that every ruined life is a story worth hearing,
For in their fragility, we find the reflection of our own searches,
And in the fragility of a shattered dream, we find the strength to be reborn.

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