In the mysterious depths of consciousness, in the silence of an endless night, I reflect

In the mysterious depths of consciousness, in the silence of an endless night, I reflect On the times when the Messiah will come only when it is no longer necessary for Him to come. Like an evanescent shadow, this thought slips along the edge of my reason, Enveloping me in the mantle of melancholy, where hopes and disappointments dance. There will come a day when answers will no longer seek questions, A moment when the emptying of the soul will be complete, And then, in a sublime paradox, in the absence of any burning or need, The Messiah will arrive like a dream at the dawn of the language of mystery. In that silence almost forgotten by time, where our desires become faint echoes, Where silence weaves between the threads of despair and healing, We will find that unbroken peace, that clarity of soul in the mirror of eternity. A starless sky slides over the edges of night, weaving a tale of silent light. No longer will we wait for the Messiah with eyes wet from prayers, Nor with souls broken by endless hopes, For He will come at a time when the thirst for obligation has faded, And in that mute unrest, He will bring an unknown calm. Like gentle rain falling on dry earth, Unbidden, undesired, but bringing new life, The Messiah will arrive like a whisper in the dream of a renewed world, A silent dawn washing away the shadows of our fractured dreams. In that moment, we will learn the final lesson of waiting: That in the absence of desire and need, true enlightenment is born, And in the silence of self-emptying, the unconditional truth pulses, Like an old song reborn in our calm, immaculate hearts. And thus, the Messiah will come when our suffering has become a forgotten myth, When love is fully embraced among us, collectors of lost dreams, And we will stand at the edge of eternity, smiling at the falling stars, In a mystical waltz of life, where each step is a drop of endless gratitude.