The poet lives life in reverse, like a bird flying backward
The poet lives life in reverse, like a bird flying backward,
While young, he meditates on death as a distant, somber horizon,
He travels through the dark forests of thoughts,
Where trees are sculpted from shadows and leaves dried by time,
And the wind whispers secret melodies about forgotten endings and beginnings.
But as the years flow like a lazy river through the valley of memories,
The aged poet turns his gaze toward the light, toward life,
In his eyes now shine images of girls laughing under the blue sky,
Of smiles blooming like cherry blossoms in eternal spring,
And of desires rising like kites in the warm summer wind.
For the artist, in the secrecy of his existence, is an alchemist of time,
Transforming the lead of heavy thoughts into the gold of delicate dreams,
He learns to weave the threads of life from the fabric of inevitable death,
To create a tapestry where death and life dance,
In an endless waltz under the moonlight of eternity.
And so, in the flow of his consciousness, the poet bears his burden,
With wings spread toward the sky, seeking balance between beginning and end,
In a world where past and future intertwine,
Like two rivers meeting in the infinite sea of time,
Where each verse becomes a bridge to what was and what will be.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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