In the temple of my soul burn words misunderstood
In the temple of my soul burn words misunderstood,
The secret bell of my hope tolling dimly in the echoless temple,
How I wished to sift the hidden meanings,
And to lay upon your altar achievements that weave smiles and never-ending applause.
Oh, how heavy are the crowns of glory sought in vain,
When your animate earth refuses to resonate with my heroic efforts,
Sleepless nights I've sewn into the tapestry of time that does not remain,
Where my staff has measured abysses, but you've read them as mere indifferent trenches.
My fatigue is a cloak whose shadow stretches over the dreamed plains,
Asking only for a drop of recognition,
Echoes of my queries like the son seeking the silent love of the parent,
But in your answers you escape into the labyrinth where the child is lost at every attempt at closeness.
A fate that's thrown at me, an irony that clothes you in mystery,
When others, like myself, search in you for an undying beacon,
And you raise veils of light only to extinguish them when I am the one approaching.
I am carried by winds towards peaks, only to be turned back to the shadowed valley.
I would have wished to grasp the secret of finding the perilous works of gossamer wings,
I shudder at the thought where all the sweat and suffering poured into offering cups,
Spill unnoticed in your chambers, when the star of success fades.
I am the good shepherd who guards his sheep, but you see me only when I drive off the wolf.
I come now to turn in my world each chrysalis of pain,
Moments of passion burned in the trial's fire that transforms me,
I know any star suspended on the ceiling of my dreams will leave you cold.
The octaves of my heart sing in crystal chimes, but the music reaches your silent chest.
And so, the truth is the fog within us, the fog between us,
Now I know that no vortex of effort, no constellation of tears will soothe you.
For you are the ever-living enigma, and I the pilgrim who once naively believed.
But now I turn my ship toward unknown waters and no longer look back.
On the altar of silence, I lay my gifts, but I transform them into scrolls for a new odyssey,
I am no longer who I was, I step into a world that reflects new dawns for me.
You will remain the question that finds no answer, and I will be the answer that carves a path without question,
Now I know better my own deep excavations, the hidden springs from whence I drink onwards.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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