In the penumbra of oblivion, I've engraved words of gold

In the penumbra of oblivion, I've engraved words of gold, About flowers that assembled their petals from moments of beginning, About storms, in which the lightning melted into dark forces, And all that was here was but the gift of silence that crossed. I've always drawn mornings that never embraced the dawn, The story of a labyrinth where steps are concealed, And two archangels crying tears in rasps of forgiveness, In their hearts, the story penetrated beyond any thought. I have constantly invoked love as a secretive star in the sky, That retains its memory on the orbit of eternity, And the rays of sunrise ascending from the blue waters, Like a quest for answers that have yet to find their being. In every quiver, I've lived life as if it were a dream, In any wave that carves its path towards an uncertain shore, And in the falling faith of stars in exalted heavens, In anxieties without cure, the burden of questions without waste. I sketched, without lamenting the cry that has extinguished in me, The collapse of the world within me, caused by the complete whirlwind, Where trees break away from the forest, in the silence that remained, And their shadow persists, shrouded in the mystery that has become master. And how wonderful it was to be with you in this mystical odyssey, And how sad it seems to me to float alone, in an endless void, When my steps wander on paths unknown, And beneath my eyelids, I paint the calm from a universe stopped in a sigh.