The sky seems to be on fire these heavy days
The sky seems to be on fire these heavy days,
With questions driving peace from my shoulders.
My gaze flies towards you, fluttering from dreams,
With a strange smile you’ve never worn in our serene skies.
I descend back into memories, a realm woven from blissful flickers,
Shattering into echoes, into constructions of smoke and the tide of forgetting.
Was it a mask, the world's farce teetering on the abyss?
The poison imbibed, was it sweet and yet bitter in the same unstable moment?
May the stars be just in their nocturnal guidance,
And may the peace you sought now be your consort.
I forgot just how deeply shaded life is, stumbling, that some yearn for the evening darkness,
When death refused to carry your last goodbye, the final comfort.
In every corner of my poem, you become sacred space,
The pages with the books you gifted still hold a fragrance of your passing.
You are a part of me until my last breath trembles,
And you will be immortal in every line of my poetry, a speaking effigy.
For me, you shall remain, making chords eternally vibrate,
Like a melody without end, as you vowed under the silver moon.
And in the half-light that surrounds me, I hear you humming the promise of eternity,
Among the shadows weaving their dance, you are the light, melancholic and holy, wearing night's cloak.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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