Dan Enache Poet Free verse

Eternal Withering and Rebirth from Living Ashes

Eternal Withering and Rebirth from Living Ashes
Withered from so much toil like a dried flower still struggling to breathe,
The eternity of old age wallows in venom sweet and thick as poisoned honey,
The poverty of serenity is hidden wealth—emptiness full of unseen and clear light,
You with the fragment of daring turn back with wide eyes toward the blind and mute sky.
Your yellowed pale hands read from the ephemeral like from old burned books,
On a pearl of dice you risk inherited wealth—everything on a single throw,
And then ending in evasiveness you proclaim your kingdom lost definitively and empty,
And your weakened body absolute slave you whip savagely wounding the fat nothingness.
The greed that remains is a nothing fed with lashes and blood slowly melted,
If you can fill the immeasurable song of that infinite minute so brief,
At least with the step in penumbra of the new deity made of sixty-one seconds,
Then yours will be the earth and all that exists within it—matter and spirit.
What's more you will know in the end that you truly are a whole man,
A MAN only and not a herd—alone in the crowd like a star lost in fog,
If you can show what you are—no overly good or overly clever and false you,
And if you dream as legitimate master of the dream you don't make a follower to blindly trail you.
The entire life and the moment of death you can eternalize on the same heavy scale,
On the same balance you place them—the weight of life and the lightness of death strangely equal,
If you can hear clearly and loudly the truth spoken by enemies' debauched hosts,
Distorted by sick minds intertwined with deception in giant traps for fools.
If you can have the courage to look at the ruin that darkens your weak and blind sight,
In an irreparable autumn where leaves fall like dried golden tears,
If you can shackle the murderous and cowardly thought when everyone around has lost their head,
Your heart poisoning with their tears of hatred that flow like hot green acid.
If you can have confidence in yourself while unforgiving friends have abandoned you,
But you've forgiven them for what they've become and are—hollow shadows of themselves,
If you can wait without growing weary in neglect and not be tainted by lies,
Not to give free rein to your anger that boils like lava beneath the surface of cold skin.
Your withering is rebirth—the slow death that makes you alive in the strangest way,
The eternity of old age is youth hiding in wrinkles deep as dried rivers,
The poverty of serenity is invisible abundance—the void containing all possible universes,
You with the fragment of daring build entire castles from shards of shattered courage.
Your yellowed hands read the future from the ephemeral—the book that vanishes as you read it,
On the pearl of dice you throw your wealth and lose everything to gain nothing and everything,
The kingdom proclaimed lost definitively is the true kingdom—the one that cannot be taken,
And your weakened body absolute slave is the hidden master who whips the tyranny within.
The fat nothingness you wound is fullness dressed in clothes of radiant void,
The immeasurable song of the infinite minute is eternity compressed into sixty seconds,
The step in penumbra of the new deity is light born from living and dense shadow,
And the earth becomes yours when you understand you can only possess through renunciation.
You will know you are human a MAN only—no more no less than this being,
Not a herd walking blindly but a single conscious step on the desolate and long road,
You show what you are—neither too good nor too clever—just you whole and naked,
From the dream you don't make a follower because the true dream cannot be lent to others.
Life and death on the same scale—the perfect balance of existence breathing both,
The truth of enemies and the deception of fools—both are the path to bitter knowledge,
The courage to look at your ruin in the irreparable autumn when everything beautifully collapses,
And to shackle the murderous thought when everyone has lost their head in collective madness.
Your heart poisoned with others' hatred becomes the antidote that heals you from false love,
Confidence in yourself when friends have abandoned you is the only confidence that ever matters,
To wait without weariness without lies without anger burning uncontrolled in your chest,
This is the withering that makes you eternal—the old age that births you anew each day.

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