Dan Enache Poet Free verse

On the shadowed path, time spills its silence

On the shadowed path, time spills its silence,
With dreams shattered in spider webs that bind ephemeral hope,
From heights fall calls, like echoes of a forgotten paradise,
A paradox of longing and forgetting, dancing on the edge of the world.
In the distance, on the cold pavement, our poor memory fades,
A dialogue of snows with the white bear, silently bearing the burden,
Touch of whitened grass, the first snow of autumn,
A paradox of warmth and cold, in the moonlight that absorbs sleep.
Oh, there was another day, a moment from a lost eternity,
When on the ankle of that beauty, paradise scattered in harshness,
A comparison between sky and earth, a sweet contradiction,
That only the stars can read, in the night that absorbs the dream.
And so, in the flow of consciousness, we lose and find ourselves,
In a dance of words, waltzing on the edge of memory,
In a labyrinth of emotions, a paradox of longing and comfort,
That carries us, ever further, toward new beginnings.

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