At the crossroads of years, where stones whisper for centuries
At the crossroads of years, where stones whisper for centuries,
Inside unfolds the mystical drama of the self seeking light,
Through mazes of thoughts like leaves rolling towards truth.
Thirsty souls gaze towards the sky, begging for drops of eternity,
On the edges of doubts, gardens grow - guardians of lost meanings,
A journey to the core, where shadows are fragments of incomplete answers.
There are valleys where echoes intertwine with the whispers of ancestors,
Under the vault, a chorus rises, a melody of boundless quests,
A sacred song - only the heart carries in prayer, spread by the birds of silence in their flight.
In the inner temple, at the unseen altar, unspoken hopes burn,
In jewels of darkness, the brightest flames take shape,
And each falling star is a devotion, a metaphor of the hidden, ignited dream.
The mysteries of underground rivers embroider a river of consciousness in the depths,
Sketching in sacred caves icons of thought, the holy mirage of wisdom,
And each rock from which water bursts forth is an altar, a gateway to infinity.
The seeds of reality get lost in the sands of time, on the path of initiation,
A carousel of meanings spinning among the stars, in a dance of wordless songs,
And when night shares with day the cosmic secret of passage,
Mystical auroras reveal that the true journey is not towards the peak,
But in the spiral of inner ascent, the mystical ascension of being.
At this altar, the unknown reveals itself to you, and finally,
You remain with your name carried on the lips of the wind,
In the siren's song of the infinite, weaving a mystical refrain,
Though its sparkle is hidden from worldly eyes,
What grows in every soul is a never-ending story,
Narrated in the silent language of the heart - this is the hymn of those who journey within.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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