Too early in my life it was already too late

Too early in my life it was already too late, as if the dawn had rushed to bite the edge of the night, and the stars, those relics of time, had faded before I could grasp them with my gaze, a journey where the trains depart before I reach the platform, and my thoughts weave into imaginary journeys through the corridors of memory, where shadows dance on the walls of my consciousness, whispering to me that yesterday intertwines with tomorrow in a ball of time that loses its thread before it can unravel, and I, a traveler without destination, seek my place in a universe where every second is a memory of what might have been, but in this whirlwind of regrets and unfulfilled desires, I feel my heart beating rhythmically, like a metronome conducting the symphony of silence within me, and yet, I feel how the quiet gently embraces me, like an open window to the infinite sky, where the clouds disperse in a slow dance, carried by the wind that has already sent me all the letters of unfulfilled dreams, and perhaps in this labyrinth of thoughts and emotions, time finds its meaning, and I, wrapped in the nostalgia of moments that passed before they began, weave my hopes with the thin threads of memories, knowing that, too early in my life, it was already too late.