I step forward with the fear that in the years to come, like shadows stretching at dusk
I step forward with the fear that in the years to come, like shadows stretching at dusk,
Every word spoken or written will evaporate like morning dew,
Like dust carried by the wind or rivers flowing into forgotten seas,
My thoughts will scatter with the dawn, silent and lost.
I have no wealth or fame, no legacy of great deeds to leave behind,
No scars of war or stars discovered, nor races won,
Like so many others whose words and thoughts have now been swallowed by time,
I fear a wordless fate, like confetti thrown toward the heavens.
The poet’s dream of living beyond oblivion haunts me in secret,
For someone to read these words would save the soul from the void,
Only time will tell if these letters will write the end of these phrases,
Simple scribbles now that might, somehow, be read on future pages.
I wonder if my echo will resonate in the vast silence of the universe,
If my metaphors will dance among the stars or fade into oblivion,
If the dream of touching eternity with a verse will outlast the night,
Or if it will vanish like a fleeting dream, swallowed by the relentless waves of time.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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