Toward you I move, with every step lost in the wind that sings stories
Toward you I move, with every step lost in the wind that sings stories,
When I say I'm coming home, I'm actually moving toward you, though I scatter along the way,
The warmth of returning envelops me like a cloak woven from memories of longing,
And the milestones of the roads press like long shadows stretching over ancient times,
In the fear that I won't know when and how I'll truly reach you,
For on the sleigh of winter gliding among the stars, I leave letters at your gate,
And in a secret and posthumous way, they will carry me to your silent threshold,
Where time stops and dreams dance like butterflies at dawn,
Something, surely, will happen, for my hands depart to bow,
At the altar of your presence, where days intertwine with stellar nights.
My feet already know the way, bearing memories of unseen steps,
Anyway, I will reach your home, even if the roads are long and winding,
For I have set out, a lifetime ago, toward you, traveling through seasons and dreams,
With every heartbeat, closer to the place where we reunite,
With this journey, I find a profound tranquility, a peace that cannot be described,
And even if the cold winds try to divert me from the chosen path,
The light in your eyes will be the beacon, guiding me through the fog of doubts,
Until, finally, I reach you, where wounds heal,
Where every sigh becomes a whisper of eternal love and longing,
Toward you, always, I move, with an open heart and a soul full of rediscovery.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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