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Poem

What we are, we do not know, as we carry within us a shade of dark brown, like a hidden shadow,
Wandering through nightmares woven from the dark threads of endless nights,
We lose ourselves among the floating ducks on a vast lake, a mirror of the boundless sky,
From where no departure will ever be possible, in the light of an imaginary day,
We have grown accustomed to living this way, estranged from the strangeness of our own existence,
This is our life, a journey through the valleys of silent and relentless suffering,
We cannot change anything, for pain becomes a faithful and unforgiving companion,
Buddha reached the same conclusion and created Nirvana, a path to peace,
He imagined a final disappearance, an extinguishing of the flame that burns without end,
Nirvana has no continuation, only the memory of a flame that still illuminates,
The folly of this legacy remains a bitter truth, hard to swallow and forget,
A flame that burns within us, but brings no solace, only an oppressive silence,
We are trapped in a world that refuses to show us the hidden meaning of existence,
Wandering aimlessly, in search of a peace that seems to be just a distant myth,
This is our story, a flow of thoughts and memories lost in time.

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