Our steps echo on different paths, though we tread the same ground

Our steps echo on different paths, though we tread the same ground, Each destiny has its own magic, its own constellation of falling stars, Another's success is a chimera that disintegrates in my hands, Like smoke rising towards the dark sky of lost illusions. Life is a school with lessons hidden in every corner, in every shadow, We learn to fly with broken wings, to sing with voices hoarse from weeping, Failure is a ruthless but wise teacher, sculpting our souls, With the chisel of pain and the hammer of disappointment, until we become imperfect works of art. Our triumphs are whispers in the wind, fragile echoes in the valleys of silence, We keep them hidden in Pandora's boxes, away from the eyes of envy, For the world is a shattered mirror reflecting only its own joy, And another's happiness is a shadow darkening the sun in wounded souls. We are actors on a vast stage, playing unwritten roles, Some applaud us, others jeer, but the curtain falls the same for all, Acceptance is a bitter balm on the wounds of rejection, We heal in solitude, under the indifferent stars of the universe. Four birds dance in the library of life, among the shelves of memory, An invisible blade cuts the fragile thread of one’s destiny, The other three continue their flight, ignoring the drop of blood on the floor, For life is a relentless river that flows on, indifferent to our tragedies. Smiles are perfect masks, hiding abysses of darkness, Behind white teeth lie hearts black as coal, Friendship is a bottle of sweet poison, served at the party of illusions, We drink with thirst, blinded by the false shine of trust. We are all passersby on this earth, actors in an ephemeral play, Roles change, actors leave, the stage remains empty in the end, Youth is a dream from which we wake up old and tired, Dependent on the hands we once arrogantly ignored. Life is a tapestry woven from threads of joy and pain, Each day is a new color, a new pattern in the fabric of destiny, We are creators and creation, sculptors and statues of our own existence, We dance to the rhythm of the heartbeat of the universe, until the music stops. And so, in the silence of the night, under the full moon of revelations, We understand that we are but drops in the infinite ocean of existence, Ephemeral, yet eternal, fragile, yet strong, alone, yet connected, In a cosmic dance of destiny, on the magical stage of life.