From a realm where everything is different

From a realm where everything is different, where no one is concerned with themselves, Yet all remain true to the task: to part from their native land, My city, with its customs, people, houses, leaves, and rains, Is so deeply imprinted on my retina, like a tattoo on my chest. A stranger in language and appearance, one day, God willing, I will step out, with breath caught in my throat, into others' squares. Then, like a bird, like smoke above the altar, will fly The hope to live and honestly explain myself to a foreign kin. But I fear for these verses, for every breath or stanza, The current century weighs their worth with care. Fate has always threatened that the house is built on sand, Where all that's gathered and dear already hangs by a thin thread. It's time for the secret pain, the heartbeats, and dreams to fulfill — But we can never measure the scope of God's will. Only His sunset light, heralding the storm afar — Both sweet and terrifying it is to fall asleep in His hand. In the flow of my consciousness, the city unfolds in colors and sounds, Like a tide of memories that floods me, yet still carries me back, This is the place I leave and return to, with dreams tethered to roots, Here, between the shadows of the past and the promises of an unknown future, I find myself. Every step is a silent dialogue with the street, with stones placed by old hands, Every breath a tribute to those who were and those who will come. Light slips through the cracks, like a truth that cannot be hidden, I fear losing these moments, forgetting their silent song. In the silence of the night, I let myself be carried by dreams, by the desire to find my place, Between what was and what will be, I dance on the thin thread of hope. And, ultimately, I surrender to the divine will, in a sweet and fearful sleep, With an open heart, ready to embrace the mysteries to come.