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๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡น
Chi mi dice che ascolto?
Chi mi dice che parlo?
Chi mi dice che sono?

Non รจ la voce a dichiararlo,
non รจ il silenzio a confermarlo.
รˆ il vento che scivola tra le foglie,
รจ il respiro che accarezza la vita.

Se tu ascoltassi davvero il vento,
sentiresti che io non appartengo
a un luogo soltanto,
ma sono ovunque:
nellโ€™attimo che fugge,
nella luce che nasce,
nel cuore che si apre.

Io sono,
semplicemente,
nellโ€™invisibile che ci unisce.

โ€” Masi Roberto ยฉ 2025


---

๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ง
Who says that I listen?
Who says that I speak?
Who says that I am?

It is not the voice that proclaims it,
nor silence that confirms it.
It is the wind flowing through the leaves,
the breath caressing life.

If you truly listened to the wind,
you would feel that I do not belong
to just one place,
but I am everywhere:
in the fleeting moment,
in the rising light,
in the heart that opens.

I am,
simply,
in the unseen that binds us.

โ€” Masi Roberto ยฉ 2025
Autore di raccolte pubblicate: La voce del cammino / The Voice of the Path e The Story of Eliar โ€“ The Light That Remembers.
Poem Prompt: When was the last time you laughed out loud? What was it about?

A poem.
You see.
Have you noticed before typing there it is โ€œpoem?โ€
๐”œ๐”ฌ๐”ฒ๐”ฏ๐”ฐ๐”ข๐”ฉ๐”ฃ. ๐”๐”ข ๐”ถ๐”ฌ๐”ฒ ๐”ž๐”ซ๐”ก โ„‘, ๐”ถ๐”ฌ๐”ฒ๐”ฏ ๐”ฉ๐”ฆ๐”ค๐”ฅ๐”ฑ ๐”ฉ๐”ข๐”ฑ ๐”ฆ๐”ฑ ๐”ฐ๐”ฅ๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”ข.
๐”…๐”ฉ๐”ž๐”ฐ๐”ฑ ๐”ฌ๐”ฃ๐”ฃ ๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”ฑ๐”ฌ ๐”ฐ๐”ญ๐”ž๐” ๐”ข ๐”ด๐”ฆ๐”ฑ๐”ฅ ๐”ฑ๐”ฅ๐”ข ๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”ฑ๐”ข๐”ฑ๐”ฆ๐”ฌ๐”ซ ๐”ฌ๐”ฃ ๐”ค๐”ฌ๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”ค ๐”ฑ๐”ฌ ๐”ถ๐”ฌ๐”ฒ๐”ฏ ๐”ฃ๐”ž๐”ณ๐”ฌ๐”ฏ๐”ฆ๐”ฑ๐”ข ๐”ญ๐”ฉ๐”ž๐”ซ๐”ข๐”ฑ.
๐•ผ๐”ฒ๐”ข๐”ฐ๐”ฑ๐”ฆ๐”ฌ๐”ซ?

Prompt: When was the last time you laughed out loud? What was it about?

๐”.๐”’.๐”
๐”๐”ž๐”ฒ๐”ค๐”ฅ
๐”’๐”ฒ๐”ฑ
๐”๐”ฌ๐”ฒ๐”ก
๐”๐”ฌ๐”ช๐”ข๐”ซ๐”ฑ๐”ฐ ๐”ฉ๐”ฆ๐”จ๐”ข ๐”ฑ๐”ฅ๐”ฆ๐”ฐ ๐”ฑ๐”ฅ๐”ข ๐”ก๐”ฒ๐”ฐ๐”ฑ๐”ข๐”ก ๐”ญ๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”จ ๐” ๐”ฉ๐”ฌ๐”ฒ๐”ก๐”ฐ, ๐”ด๐”ฅ๐”ฌ ๐”ด๐”ฌ๐”ฒ๐”ฉ๐”ก๐”ซ'๐”ฑ ๐”ด๐”ž๐”ซ๐”ฑ ๐”ฑ๐”ฅ๐”ฆ๐”ฐ?
โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿ”ฅ
๐Ÿ™ˆ
๐Ÿฅ€
๐”“๐”ฉ๐”ข๐”ž๐”ฐ๐”ข ๐”ž๐”ซ๐”ค๐”ข๐”ฉ๐”ฐ ๐”ฌ๐”ฃ ๐”ฅ๐”ข๐”ž๐”ณ๐”ข๐”ซ, ๐”ฅ๐”ฌ๐”ด ๐”ž๐”ฏ๐”ข ๐”ถ'๐”ž๐”ฉ๐”ฉ ๐”ก๐”ฌ๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”ค?

๐Ÿ“Œ
๐Ÿฅ‚
๐Ÿ˜ตโ€๐Ÿ’ซ
๐’ฎ๐’พโ„Š๐“ƒโ„ฏ๐’น ๐’ซ๐“Ž๐“‰~ ๐’ฆ๐’พฬจ๐“€๐’พฬจ
โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿ”ฅ
"๐”ช๐”ฌ๐”ฐ๐”ฑ ๐”ฉ๐”ฆ๐”จ๐”ข๐”ฉ๐”ถ ๐”ฑ๐”ฌ"....
๐Ÿ”ฅ
๐”๐”ฆ๐”ค๐”ฅ๐”ฑ ๐”ฌ๐”ฃ ๐”ฑ๐”ฅ๐”ข ๐”ก๐”ž๐”ถ ๐”ค๐”ฌ๐”ข๐”ฐ ๐”ฑ๐”ฌ๐”ฌ๐”ฌ๐”ฌ๐”ฌ
๐’œ๐“Œ๐’ถ๐“‡๐’น: โ„’๐’พโ„Š๐’ฝ๐“‰ โ„ด๐’ป ๐“‰๐’ฝโ„ฏ ๐’น๐’ถ๐“Ž โ„Šโ„ดโ„ฏ๐“ˆ ๐“‰โ„ด ๐“Žโ„ด๐“Š ๐“…โ„ดโ„ฏ๐“‰๐“ˆ
๐Ÿฅ‚
๐’ฒ๐“‡๐’พ๐“‰๐“‰โ„ฏ๐“ƒ: ๐’ฎโ„ฏ๐“… 23, 2025
๐’ฉโ„ด๐“‰โ„ฏ๐“ˆ~ ๐’žโ„ด๐“ƒ๐“‰๐’พ๐“ƒ๐“Šโ„ฏ ๐“‰โ„ด ๐’นโ„ด ๐“Ž๐’ถ'๐“๐“ ๐’ทโ„ฏ๐“ˆ๐“‰
โ„’๐’พโ„Š๐’ฝ๐“‰ ๐“Š๐“… ๐“‰๐’ฝโ„ฏ ๐’น๐’ถ๐“Ž โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿ”ฅ
๐Ÿ˜ตโ€๐Ÿ’ซ
๐’ฒ๐“‡๐’พ๐“‰๐“‰โ„ฏ๐“ƒ ~ ๐’ฎโ„ฏ๐“… 23, 2025
โ„ณ๐’ถ๐’นโ„ฏ ๐’พ๐“‰ ๐’ฝโ„ฏ๐“‡โ„ฏ ๐’ฎโ„ฏ๐“… 25, 2025
Everyone has tasted it,
its fire, its hidden sweetness.

Wash it a thousand times,
boil it, roast it, grind it fine
still it clings, still it lingers on the tongue.

So it is with certain souls:
no kindness softens them,
no gentle word can turn their core.

Do not grieve.
Keep your flavor pure,
and let theirs be their own.
oh sad eyes,
look up,
try to seeโ€”

itโ€™s not over.

you didnโ€™t break,
you didnโ€™t falter.

i know itโ€™s hard,
harder to denyโ€”

sometimes you
have to let them go
before your soul dies.

you canโ€™t carry two worlds
when only one is yours.

look at me,
sad eyes,

i promise
itโ€™ll be okay.

sometimes you
have to build walls,
draw a line in the sand.

sad eyes,
please understandโ€”

it doesnโ€™t mean hate,
it means you chose peace
over conflict.

maybe one day
youโ€™ll cross paths again,
and both of you
will understand.

sad eyes,
look up,
try to seeโ€”

this is not
the end of you.
A poem I wrote to remind myself that choosing peace doesnโ€™t mean failure. Sometimes protecting your soul means letting go, even when it hurts.
Maria 7d
When the day wonโ€™t move and the clocks arenโ€™t tickinG,
    A lonely hour feels like an iNvitation
        Into endless Isolation.
           aTTacking
     Internal thoughts Into
   A vengeance against   Nobody.
Without a minute to spare yet nothinG to do.
What I like
doesn't make
a thing right-
what I dislike
doesn't make
the thing a blight :
life can't be viewed
just from a single side
On and offline
more often
than a drunken
tightrope walker.
could have been another #10word
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