Life, in its cruelest joke, gives us only enough time to discover ourselves
Life, in its cruelest joke, gives us only enough time to discover ourselves,
we toil through the years of uncertainty, forging identities like soul blacksmiths,
sharpening our talents, enduring betrayals and broken hearts,
reaching the peak of self-possession only to be ready to depart.
This is the irony of life, where maturity comes hand in hand with obsolescence,
wisdom, that hard-earned prize, merely the prelude to irrelevance,
we master existence just in time to leave it, a bitter joke of time,
a brief rehearsal for an unscripted exit, without applause.
We gaze into the abyss of the inevitable, death, with eyes wide open to infinity,
living under the shadow of our own mortality, shadows dancing on the earth,
we crawl through the days of life with the burden of knowing our fate presses upon us,
the weight of the days is dreadful, a sad song in the cold wind.
We practice existence under the indifferent sky, between magical sunrises and sunsets,
like actors on the stage of a play whose end is already written in the stars,
each day, in this theater of time, we seek unseen meaning,
how to find essence when we are destined to be merely passing dreamers?
Perhaps in this journey, between dream and awakening, we find a hidden beauty,
perhaps in each step toward the abyss there is a dance of life and death,
a dance whose rhythm we cannot stop, a waltz of ephemeral eternity,
yet, in our fragility, in the awareness of the end, we find strength.
A strength to love, to create, to hope with intensity and passion,
even knowing that our story will end like any other story,
we live each chapter like a fire that lights up the dark night,
for between light and shadow there is always a beginning and an end.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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