I have lost friends, some by death

I have lost friends, some by death, others through sheer inability to cross the street, and now, in starless nights, when shadows embrace dreams and hopes remain suspended on the edge of an abyss of memories, I remember their gazes, the laughter that dissolved into the air, like eternal ghosts in an endless dance, for every step on the deserted streets of my thoughts hides an echo of a lost voice, a reverberation of unfulfilled desires, and in their words, like butterflies of light, I get lost, striking against the dark walls of my mind, losing themselves in a symphony of silences. Oh, how easy it is to get lost in the labyrinth of life, to remain a prisoner of one's own impotence, to not see the passage of time, to not feel the whisper of the wind that brings change, and yet, sometimes, even the edge of the road becomes an unfathomable chasm, an invisible line that separates us from ourselves, a gulf between "here" and "beyond", and the street is a river, a river of existence that flows unceasingly, separating us not only from others but also from ourselves, under my steps, the asphalt is a canvas where the traces of ephemeral passings are painted, a mosaic of lost moments. The alleys of the city become the paths of my soul, where every corner hides a story, where each streetlamp is a fallen star, shining only to fade, and yet, in this bittersweet melancholy, I find a strange beauty, a magic of loss, where every goodbye is a new beginning, where every end is a gateway to another world, and in the depths of my soul, the lost friends live beyond time, beyond space, in a garden of eternity where the flowers of memories never wither. I remain on the edge of this street, contemplating the infinite, seeking my place in an incomprehensible universe, where every step forward is a step back, where every glance back is a window to the future, and in this profound silence, I feel my soul rising, crossing unseen streets, reaching lost friends, in an eternal embrace of memories and dreams.