This morning, when I woke up, my heart was silent

This morning, when I woke up, my heart was silent, a lost echo in a room without a window, my soul, a nocturnal butterfly, had escaped through the half-open window, leaving me a body without an orchestra, without song, without dream, searching for myself through labyrinths of disoriented and lonely senses. I walked like a shadow through the city's rain, seeking among the raindrops the memory of a forgotten smile, a lost soul on streets only my steps know, while the faces of strangers looked at me with curiosity, like a phantom of flesh, a mist of dreams and unfulfilled longings. I crossed the fog, a traveler through time without a compass, until I reached a corner of the world forgotten by memories, a shop with second-hand souls, where it hid, in a corner of a tear, in a flower petal, in a plush bird, smiling absent, distant, yet so close to me. I embraced it with a deep breath, and in that moment, I felt it transform, another soul, another me, another story born from the same ashes, and I wondered how long it would take until we are friends again, until we find each other at dawn? The curious eyes of the world follow me now, in a world that doesn't understand that our soul is a bird, always in flight, seeking its sky, seeking its song, seeking its echo, in a universe that doesn't know that our souls are dreams, always escaping, always searching to return home.