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In the ancient world, it is spoken of beings that are neither among men nor in a dream
In the ancient world, it is spoken of beings that are neither among men nor in a dream,
Blessed with an isolated destiny, with an unknown hope.
Their deeds seem to precede the first accusation of time and the indifference of the firmament,
No one thinks to engage them, for the future melts like wax under their gaze.
Some beings were forced into that destiny without a word of their own,
Now they are almost invisible and uncounted by society, as if they do not exist.
They are those who would never sell their souls, the noblest and the most troubling.
They are the quiet travelers of time, immersed in the mystery of an unclear destiny,
Carving their own ascent in a realm with neither hands nor hearts towards them.
Each step they take is a hidden note in the silent symphony of the universe,
Taking their undisturbed place in the waiting room of eternity.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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