At midnight, a silent ocean of ebony rises

At midnight, a silent ocean of ebony rises, a black lung stretching over my fragile ribs, and the bed becomes a cold altar where the body rehearses its disappearance, a sanctuary of shadows dancing on the edges of unknown dreams. The footsteps vanish, leaving room only for insects quietly gnawing the lampshade, small mouths reminding me how delicately the light fades, and how the story unravels in the darkness that flows gently, fragments of time and memories falling like the leaves of an eternal autumn. But in this abyss of silence, a memory shines defiantly, a spark defying the deep silence of the night, wishing to preserve the light even when darkness sings its final note, and hidden voices whisper of the rebirth waiting on the horizon. I rise from my stone altar, seeking to rewrite the lost words, in a world awakening with each sunrise, a universe where even shadows embrace their beauty, an eternal journey toward the light, beyond the boundaries of night.