In the silky night, dotted with mystery

In the silky night, dotted with mystery, Where the moon's thread weaves shadows on the paths, The heart, a thin garment, a flash in the ether, Listens as the time from the hourglass seeps away, And its rhythm, a song from the depths, beats within me Like an echo of an ancient tune budding anew. With longing gathering silences and fears in its pure essence, It agonizes deep within the burdened soul, Breathing at the edge between aquatic dreams that seem to sweep Faces and moments in the sadistic night's fog, where nothing is pure, Where dreams, ephemeral and pale, are like butterflies in flight, They struggle for a while, and then they fade, silent pain that vanishes by dawn. My days pass, feeling my wings crushed by yearning, For I float in lights and shadows, always at the fall of the curtain, But somewhere, in hidden corners of the heart, a spring, Of hope and lofty dreams, washes my soul of sighs And sets me off towards happier horizons, towards effortless flights, Towards heavens where dreams unfold their wings, without fear of the wind. There is no darkness without voice, nor burden that does not reveal meaning to me, Every rebirth demands a tired end to make way, But the star of hope, even in the harshest times, brings me light, Forges a path through blizzards and darkness, a trail to the morning where dreams have purpose, Where the heart quenches its thirst at the spring where every hope finds an answer. When the silver disc illuminates the starry vault and night spreads her beauty, I clasp my heart in my hands, in a silent prayer for solace and rest, I ask the moon to imprint its serene mark over scars and to scatter the darkness, To loan me from its pure tranquility, the strength to cross through the night's mist, And thus, emboldened, to follow my path towards a new day's smile. Even then, beneath the pure canopy, the sunrise becomes my altar, Of tenderer love, traversed with whispers of wind, To flood my chest with delicate breezes, with the moon's patience, May each heartbeat be a hymn to a tale that refuses to die. Thus I stand, captive in reverie, at the gate of an uninterrupted dream. On the land forgotten by time, where the horizon melts into the sky, In the secret garden where the soul's reverberations are lost, My wandering heart, a mime of silent feelings, Floats above the silent depths, Wandering from dawn until the deaf and cold night, In search of that ephemeral moment that does not wish to be preserved. Meandering among echoes of days long past, Where silences rise like cathedrals to an illuminated muse, The heart pretends to be an eternal vessel on the seas of boundless longing, Rowing through the fog and expectations, in rhythms mingled and faded, Moments succeed, lavish, like leaves in the wind, That sways, oh, so slowly, on the arid earth, in the bowels of frozen time. Unfurling its wings bordered by fog, the inabilities of the heart, Feeling the power fade with every less willful beat, Yet, fresh and unbridled longing knows not of forgetting, It engages in a dance with hope, an unexpected embrace, In a futile effort of struggle, refusing to surrender, Until the silent pulse of capitulation, at last, finds peace. When the daystar ends its cycle, giving way for the night to nestle, The heart finds refuge in a dream embraced by the pale moon's sphere, Drawing, from the celestial tranquility, a new and serene force, And perhaps a strand of madness, from the moon in its spectral display, Seeking to decipher the riddles that mock conventional understanding, To read in ecstasy, within the stars, the unwritten story of the heart that knows not how to perish. Feelings dress in winter garments to face the cold separation, Secretly gathering loves and regrets, that diligent and hidden charm. They, groping unseen, harsh or tempting, the most hidden corners of the fragment of azure, I wonder when will come the times when tears will take the undisturbed course of rivers, And I know that in my veiled thoughts, I have always agonized, Searching for that door which opens to a peace where love is forever awaited, Yet I often find myself uncertain in these realms of whispered longing, Though in the core of my soul I have sealed a strong commitment, That not a single thread of fate shall be anchored too tightly, I often find in the meanders of the pulse an unsure traveler. Whose hesitant step traverses through inner chambers hidden, Directly stepping towards a future that had refused to be predicted, A horizon of freedoms where dreams erect their sandy castle, Yet whose towers fall when the stubborn wave of reality rushes in. The promise, a silent vow in the corners of the beating heart, Testifies that, though my destiny writhes playfully, It shall never be too heavy a yoke or a predefined course, For in every moment bestowed upon me the chance to rewrite it, To turn the helm on the seas of will and personal choice, Standing thus upright, steadfast in the promise that illuminates my path, Which unfurls through the valleys and hills of an ever-changing future.