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Dan Enache | + Follow Poet |
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I am too sensitive, every breeze touches me, every sound pierces my silence

I am too sensitive, every breeze touches me, every sound pierces my silence,  
I feel everything pouring into me, like a silent sea swallowing all the unseen storms,  
all the emotions of the world swirl within me, like birds flying too close to my heart,  
I am moved by myself, I am moved by others, I am moved by every breath,  
I feel scents, souls, sorrows flowing beneath the skin, like a breeze on the edge of a cliff.  
With every word, with every touch, I feel beauty pouring into me like an invisible light.  

I am too sensitive, full of poetry, as if I carry within me all the unwritten verses, all the silent songs,  
something dances inside me, something I cannot grasp, but it fills my soul with a pale light,  
I am stripped of the layers of reality, wounded by every detail I notice, and they hurt me,  
yet I am always amazed by life, by its simplicity, by the complexity of every gesture, every blink of a star.  
My empathy is like a thread of silk that breaks too easily, yet connects all the souls I encounter,  
I discover in silence what was never told to me, I touch in people things that were never spoken,  
and in this quietness, I find a strength that makes me feel everything deeper, harsher, clearer.  

I feel everything for others, I feel their pain, their joys, as if they were mine,  
and this feeling strikes me faster than it does others, more violently, like a sudden storm over a calm sea,  
the sensations shake my balance, stir me to my core, and often I find myself falling into my own emotions,  
for my sensitivity is never banal, it’s not just a gentle touch, but a whirlwind that lifts me and throws me down at once.  
I hear too loud, I fly too high, and then I fall suddenly, overwhelmed by my own intensity,  
for my empathy is my fragility, it’s the force that holds me and breaks me,  
and at the same time, my empathy is me, my entire being.  

In all this melancholy, I feel like a soul shrouded in mist, floating between realities,  
and every step I take, every vibration I feel, makes me fall and rise again,  
in a continuous dance of sensitivity, of wonder, of a world flowing through me without end,  
and I, the poet lost in my own feelings, am merely a witness to the silent magic that surrounds me,  
fragile and strong, wounded and forever amazed, spinning in a world where everything vibrates with life and beauty.

Copyright © Dan Enache | Year Posted 2024

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