This sound,
like a friendly wind,
walking through
my lost memories
from irreversibility,
from the cold reality
of indifference
returning to fulfilling promises
as an answer to my invocation
A unique, sweet sound
is calling me now,
after twenty-five years.
I bought that ticket,
sitting in my narrow seat,
holding in my hand
a piece of uncertainty
that deforms
every time I get on board.
I used to take so many trains:
traces, luggage, running passengers,
waiting, wasting minutes.
They brought me,
step by step,
station by station,
to this voice,
to this tone of being,
in tune with silver threads.
The windows are yet closed.
I carry in my cells
the code of Alef,
a crystalline illusion.
The lens caves in
and swells outward,
seeing the elusive past
still living in me,
playing under a different sun,
through elusive existences.
We came as twenty-one souls.
Twenty I found.
One was lost—
the one closest
to my breathing truth.
The final deal:
Am I losing
or will I rest
in deeper words?
Yes.
I did it for you,
changing alternative worlds,
pulsing around me,
invitations not accepted.
I open the gate
to a new home:
to warmth,
to creativity,
made by sweet recognition
of blooming Fall to come
waiting patiently
for your move
for your not-yet-published story.
Jul 27, 2025
Jul 27, 2025 at 10:28 PM UTC
This sound,
like a friendly wind,
walking through
my lost memories
from irreversibility,
from the cold reality
of indifference
returning to fulfilling promises
as an answer to my invocation
A unique, sweet sound
is calling me now,
after twenty-five years.
I bought that ticket,
sitting in my narrow seat,
holding in my hand
a piece of uncertainty
that deforms
every time I get on board.
I used to take so many trains:
traces, luggage, running passengers,
waiting, wasting minutes.
They brought me,
step by step,
station by station,
to this voice,
to this tone of being,
in tune with silver threads.
The windows are yet closed.
I carry in my cells
the code of Alef,
a crystalline illusion.
The lens caves in
and swells outward,
seeing the elusive past
still living in me,
playing under a different sun,
through elusive existences.
We came as twenty-one souls.
Twenty I found.
One was lost—
the one closest
to my breathing truth.
The final deal:
Am I losing
or will I rest
in deeper words?
Yes.
I did it for you,
changing alternative worlds,
pulsing around me,
invitations not accepted.
I open the gate
to a new home:
to warmth,
to creativity,
made by sweet recognition
of blooming Fall to come
waiting patiently
for your move
for your not-yet-published story.
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