|
| |
In a corner of the world, where silence weaves its web like a spider in the night
In a corner of the world, where silence weaves its web like a spider in the night,
Lives trickle away in lines of systematic renunciations, like rivers slowly retreating,
Each step backward is a knife plunged deep into the flesh of attempts to live,
And each unspoken whisper becomes a weight pressing on the shoulders of dreams yet to be told.
There, in the corners of the mind where courage once resided,
Now reigns a cold that leaves no room for the fire of desire,
And the fear of life, with its sharp claws, digs deep trenches,
Turning illusions into stone walls that can no longer be scaled.
When days become a series of mute retreats,
The heart loses its old beats, like an autumn without wind,
And in every corner of the soul settles a heavy silence,
An echo of a destiny that never dared to be truly lived.
The fear of living gives birth to an even greater fear of dying,
Like a vicious circle that ensnares us in the web of an endless dance,
And in this tango of hesitations, each step back
Is a step toward an abyss from which there is no return.
In this universe of shadows and silences,
Only those who dare to face their fears
Can escape the narrow corners of existence
And embrace life as a dance of daring and dreaming.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
|
|