In the hall destined for silence, where no word incarnates into awakening
In the hall destined for silence, where no word incarnates into awakening,
A desolate abode, where the heart rests free and in falling.
Torn tears flow, rivers of troubled and sluggish melancholy,
Thoughts that hunt me, that follow me relentlessly, merciless, fierce, potent.
Memories, tapestries of time we used to weave together,
Now just specters that slither in the shadow, haunting me incessantly.
We drift apart, farther and farther, into shadows of non-meeting,
How could I halt the decline of my heart, this star falling quietly into dimming?
The silence of the evening screams too forcefully, a bell that echoes through all my rifts,
A vibration that envelops me in a pain that leaves a cold pride, wood too hard and rotten.
The pain persists, a steadfast comrade, a caress with a trail of chill,
A pain that does not bend, a string of bitterness that does not end and refuses any sought solace.
In moments when my soul sours, I call you in my silence,
A silent cry, an invocation for the solace of a new reality, for the renaissance of an azure sea.
I desire you back whole, in my pulse, in the rustle of a living heart,
To sew the ancient rupture, to stretch your light over my fragments, to heal me, to make me whole.
Ah, I know well that my plea is like a swarm of pale butterflies,
And I do not seek your sympathy to trickle slowly, to moisten my brow weighed down by thought.
The fibers of my heart frayed under the veil of a pale moon and incomprehensible murmur,
Look at me, our great love now buried under the waves of a wild ocean, a realm that seems boundless.
Clinging to the sweet-bitter memory, a shadow once full of enchantment,
I hope that one day, my being will bloom anew, under the palms of recharged hope,
And even if it will not happen, even if it will remain in its feeble emptiness, I will know it was the loftiest fate.
For even in strife, I will serenely embrace the charm of an elusive world, a fairy tale of the cosmos that does not forgive.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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