In fragments and tatters, in pieces and shards, scattered by the winds of time
In fragments and tatters, in pieces and shards, scattered by the winds of time,
I gather them carefully, even if they hurt me, my fingers bleed, but I do not stop,
These precious fragments, these bitter shards, these tattered edges and broken tears,
I collect them with longing, refusing to let them fall into oblivion,
Each piece carries with it a story, an echo of what once was,
A puzzle of lost memories, a constellation of desires and regrets,
I cannot let them be lost in the void, to dissolve into the silence of forgetting,
For they are part of me, of who I was and who I am now,
I carve a path through the shadows of the past, through the ruins of shattered dreams,
I bend down to gather what remains, to weave again the tapestry of my life,
With each shard and each tatter, I build a new beginning,
I refuse to give up, to surrender to despair, for in these fragments lie the seeds of hope.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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