In the silent embrace of mystical twilight, I lose myself in deep introspections
In the silent embrace of mystical twilight, I lose myself in deep introspections,
Looking inward, feeling the silent barriers stretching around me,
While the outer world buzzes with a feverish intensity,
Echoes and rages reverberating through streets adorned with flags,
Drums sounding loudly, calling the fevered minds of the crowd.
Something has gone awry.
I feel I no longer belong.
I seal my door tightly, draw the blinds to keep out the chaos of the outer world,
Fortifying the sanctuary of my home with walls of scrolls and ancient tomes,
They have invaded every quiet path where I once walked,
Covering beauty with strident signs and unresolved disturbances.
Something has gone awry.
I feel I no longer belong.
Out there, value seems lost unless tied to a fervent cause,
Tribal voices hurling insults across the widening chasms of division,
Their gods enlisted to preach an authorized and bitter hatred,
Disturbing the harmony of every dream and whispered thought.
Something has gone awry.
I feel I no longer belong.
What can my weary heart do but murmur with fragile hope,
Dreaming of what was or what might still be possible,
In the twilight hours, finding solace and defiance,
In the enchanted, melancholic verses of Bacovia.
In these mystical twilights, where shadows blend with lost light,
I weave my thoughts like a delicate thread through the chaos of existence,
Seeking solace in the silent whispers of ancient pages,
And in the quiet, silver embrace of the moon,
Absorbing the world’s discord as distant, passing echoes,
Creating an inner sanctuary, a realm untouched by time,
A sphere where magic and melancholy dance in silent, eternal grace.
In the gentle embrace of the ethereal twilight, where shadows intertwine with the fading light,
I anchor my soul in the unseen, where the ephemeral whispers of lost worlds dwell,
Living in the old and wise pages, resonating with the voices of times gone by,
Finding my refuge in the realms of moonlit dreams and starry silence.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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