Dan Enache | + Follow Poet |
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Melting clocks on branches of thought, dripping seconds into the ocean

Melting clocks on branches of thought, dripping seconds into the ocean,
My consciousness—a whirl of shadows and lights dancing chaotically,
Seeking the truth hidden behind the wax masks of reality.
Words collapse like autumn leaves, leaving silence behind,
Stripping away layers of artificial knowledge, illusory certainties,
Until I stand naked before the boundless mirror of existence.
I discover that truth is not a treasure to be found, but a veil to be lifted,
From the eyes of a mind weary from so much futile searching outward,
When all that was needed was to look inward, into the void full of whispers.
I unfold like a lotus flower under the moonlight,
Petal by petal, I let go of false identities, of roles played,
Until only the pure essence remains, unaltered by time and thought.
In this profound silence, I hear for the first time the melody of truth,
A song without notes, a symphony of the creative void,
And I understand that awakening is not a journey, but a return home.

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