Dan Enache | + Follow Poet |
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In the dead of night, under the starry sky

In the dead of night, under the starry sky,
With thoughts sprouting like shadows on the plow,
I gaze into the depths of my soul,
A mystical tableau unfolds endlessly.
As the cat hunts the bird in the night,
And my heart beats in a rhythm of tales,
The woman who was, like a shadow, disappears,
Into old memories, like a dream that changes.
My former job, like a spinning wheel,
Stopped abruptly, as destiny haunts me,
In an empty room, on bare and cold walls,
My soul wanders, in search of ever-uncertain meaning.
I had it all, I believed, built on fine sand,
But life is fragile, as I have seen in the past,
Any cause, no matter how distant and heavy,
Can strike us like lightning, sudden and harsh.
A child in Hong Kong, a hope crushed,
In the blizzard of Omaha, dreams scattered,
The world trembles, like fine porcelain,
Shattering on the floor, without stopping for a moment.
So do I feel, an interrupted dream,
In the mystical, romantic world where I lived,
Melancholic and fragile, like a water lily,
In a dark night, under the clear and bizarre sky.
But perhaps in the shattering of my porcelain,
In losing the woman, the job, and all that was,
There, in the chaos of this ever-changing universe,
I find answers and healing, in the end.

Copyright © Dan Enache | Year Posted 2025

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