In times to come, heavy as steel that freezes stories yet untold
In times to come, heavy as steel that freezes stories yet untold,
The sky wraps itself in ash of thoughts yearning to be confined.
Silent streets converge towards a doubtful, mechanical horizon,
Where the sobriety of hope seems so chillingly sheer.
Man – a fiber vibrating between his hot, obsessive technology,
Seeks through the digital shadow, a sign, like the leaf searching for the sun.
A lost voice seems to slide between our relentless keystrokes,
Voice of a writer, a poet, burning brightly as a flame in the night.
Times will come when we'll yearn to understand,
The moment when eco-souls traversed by stars glimpse into being.
To see, through the storm frightened by our society, other paths,
And from the labyrinth of technology, to rise with wings versed in free dawns.
Poets will be asked to remember freedom,
Wordsmiths rowing against the current, redeeming the moment from fear.
Realities broader than these dark corners of precipitous walls,
Painting on the vault of the world landscapes of thought that might bring us a drop of hope.
Like the memory of water in a thirsty desert,
The poet, a sum of words, opens his soul at the gate of dawn.
Imagining worlds where freedom is not just a word, but breath and pulse,
Where the future is not darkness, but the sunny glade growing at the root of stars.
Oh, may those craftsmen of words come, filigreeing on paper uncut essences,
To write that better reality, with their memory unfettered,
Cherubim of imagination flying over unknown horizons,
To remind us, when darkness descends, that every star has a path, and every dream the right to have wings.
Let them come, to quench our thirst with oases of boundless stories,
In a future as bold as the uncharted seas,
Where the human ship navigates with the oar of poetry toward saved worlds,
To give us trust, to remind us that we can live, in liberty.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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