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In the silence of my thought, the world slides by - a holy library of signs

In the silence of my thought, the world slides by - a holy library of signs, Each book, a life, each page, a destiny woven in time, We try to read between the endless lines the pathways of being, To unravel the map of the heavens inscribed on parchments of divine memories. What are the people who ignore the verse, if not shadows lost in the wilderness, Transient in the night of eternity, blinded by the false light of nothingness, Ignorant of the earth's song, deaf to the sidereal symphony, Passing through existence without ever touching the breath of immortal art. Those who merely survive, live in hundreds of monochrome days, Lacking eyes to see the miracle hidden in each blade of grass, Stepping through mystery without feeling the weight of each atom of magic, Wandering in an infinite emptiness, with souls unthirsty for knowledge. But I, in the poetry that penetrates celestial heights, weep hope, And answer the dilemmas that knead our genesis and end our epoch, I see the world as through golden glasses, so that the meaning of life may be a wing to me, And I fly on the wings of the word toward the realm that cannot be uttered. Poetry is the primordial light that shatters the veil of the soul's darkness, It reveals to us that stories are deeper than they seem at the surface, In poetry, we feel how existence weaves its thread through the labyrinth of the heart, How the alluvions of hopes and fears sculpt us into our truest forms. Look around, by looking beyond simplicity, you will discover, The sublime beauty of the word planted in the heart of time, Metaphors are the pillars on which we anchor our being so it does not drift away, To navigate the fluctuating ocean of our ephemeral experiences and emotions. What would life be without its beautiful and complicated tangle of philosophies, Without the magic of words that carry us high, towards indescribable spaces, We seek answers in a thousand questions that do not cease to multiply, And we always find them between the verses - in poetry, this perpetual motion machine of the soul. Do not stand in the shadow of eternal forgetting, do not bask in the darkness of despair, Lift your gaze to the firmament, where the universe weaves enchantment, Poetry is the old philosopher, it is the compass that shows us the way to understanding, It teaches us how to be more than wandering souls, how to find our place in the vastness of the cosmos.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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