Dan Enache Poet Free verse

The Flow of Silences Suspended in Void

The Flow of Silences Suspended in Void

Don't ask me to become a meteoric man of tomorrow with another face engraved,
I've walked enough with head bowed down through the labyrinth of shadow and velvet,
and even if you leave, I keep in the corner of cosmic bread a sweet drop,
an unforgettable elixir from you that pulses through my veins like a galaxy.

That's how I've always been: with thoughts carried far into lost constellations,
with hand in the intersidereal void and soul hungry for lunar lights,
smiling bitterly at all of life's deeds like a psychedelic pilgrim lost,
transforming the sharp pain into words of molten wax and astral smoke.

I wasn't a hero with memorable phrases sculpted in the marble of eternity,
just a silent and incomplete man like an unfinished painting from a dream,
I didn't dress in impeccable fabrics but in clothes of sand and ash,
I carried a peace without alphabet in my soul of shattered crystal and rust.

I've long dreamed of a moment frozen in the amber of stopped time,
for you to never leave me again, to remain like an invisible tattoo,
to feel that you're there quietly when the world in me falls once more,
like a glass empire shattering into millions of particles of hope.

I've kept my bitterness beneath silences of ice floating in the interior ocean,
and I burned slowly but without breaking like a candle of green wax,
because in life the thread of hope floating through cosmos doesn't matter,
but the straight step through the narrow labyrinth when the road is an endless spiral.

I would have wanted to know if I was wrong like a navigator without map in storm,
but for you to stay with me in this sanctuary of suspended dreams and echoes,
for you to no longer fear the psychedelic storm that howls through galaxies,
to extinguish the silences from the corner of your mouth and tell me "I love you" like a mantra.

Because in this strange life nothing's harder than regret of molten amber,
when you didn't speak love at the moment when the universe awaited the magic word,
you didn't know but I carried slowly with me all my soul of smoke and salt,
with me in this infinite present like a religiosity without gods and without temples.

Maybe I didn't know how to give the word in time when the heart wanted to scream,
when I carried in my chest the rain and cosmic wind that melted constellations,
only so the sharp pains wouldn't chase you from this fragile sanctuary,
from this cathedral of dreams where we are two pilgrims lost in fog.

And if in me you'll be a memory of lunar light and burned velvet,
you will remain but not as a past but as an eternal frozen present,
only I will be a melancholic wandering through galaxies without coordinates,
of the fact that I lost you like a falling star through fingers of smoke.

I'm tired of dreams suspended on invisible threads in the cosmic void,
and of hopes that ache in the chest like captive silver butterflies,
but most of all I'm hurt by forgotten loves like erased hieroglyphs,
that never spoke what I await in my heart like a lost prophecy.

But I know that life doesn't apologize in this absurd psychedelic carnival,
and in my soul I remained with a cosmic sigh like a nebula of melancholy,
that I didn't have the courage between my lips to tell you what's true in me,
that you are my inverted ocean in which I'll never swim freely and completely.

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