In the twilight of our thoughts, we thrash in the waves of unconfessed guilt
In the twilight of our thoughts, we thrash in the waves of unconfessed guilt,
Consciousness, a curse of silence, reveals the world in all its hidden cruelty.
We are lost actors on the stage of an endless tragedy, playing roles of helplessness and fear,
Human nature, the merciless director, drives us toward an end where truth is buried under layers of denial.
I look around and see only shadows dancing on the walls of our souls,
Truth, a fragile illusion that unravels at the slightest touch of a lucid thought.
Where can we flee when we are prisoners of our own cowardice?
Ignorance calls to us with warm arms, promising us forgetfulness and peace.
But ah! How futile it all is when we know we are but a shadow of smoke,
A consciousness lost in an indifferent universe, an ephemeral spark in the cosmic darkness.
Morality, knowledge, hope—chimeras created to soothe the pain of existence,
But the masks fall, and we remain naked before the harsh truth of our failure.
We cling to dreams and illusions, building sandcastles on the shore of eternity,
But the wave of time relentlessly washes them away, leaving behind only the memory of futility.
We are aware that we have failed, a circular curse from which we cannot escape,
Wandering through the labyrinth of our own guilt, seeking an exit that does not exist.
Oh, sweet ignorance, why have you abandoned us? Why have we awakened from the sleep of happiness?
Now we gaze into the void, conscious of our own insignificance in the face of eternity.
The world, an ephemeral dream, a fragile appearance floating in the cosmic void,
And we, spectators and actors alike in this endless tragedy.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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