In the grove of life, where the fields of time were greening with beginnings
In the grove of life, where the fields of time were greening with beginnings,
I spotted you, the naked shadow, a birth from the depth of the holy nothingness.
You crossed its silent threshold, coming with empty hands at dawn,
Unveiling yourself of the shroud of non-being, watched over by stars and the moon.
You embraced the universe, armed with only a pure soul,
In the pilgrimage toward the final silence, you will step again disarmed.
And I ask you, sister or brother in fate, whence come these cold chains?
Why plant nettles and thorns in the garden that was gifted to us pure and untainted?
In the ephemeral dance of being, all gold and silver dissolve into the illusion of time,
All palaces and thrones, sandcastles beneath the waves of vast oblivion.
The only currency that weaves across Styx embraces a finer essence,
A shared love, compassion speaking through deeds, a mirror still awaiting a response.
Ah, pride and vanity, dragons that steal the light from your eyes,
They plunge you into the shadow of a self beached on shores of disillusionment.
But the beauty of life woven in humility and kindness,
Rises like a phoenix from the ashes of falsehood, soaring toward true glory.
We will leave behind only echoes of that breath-song,
With a melody sung in acts of love, in the souls of those who remain to hum along.
This will be the mark, vibrating into eternity, a divine resonance,
The legacy that will cross the threshold, between earth and skies, to be followed with reverence.
And in the margins of time, when departure sends its envoys,
You will part, justly, with empty hands and a heart full of blessings.
The naiads of your eyes sealing the unseen tale left behind,
You remain the symphony of forgiveness, the harmony of celestial love, eternal through giving.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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