In late dusks, smothered sighs of pain melt into tomorrow
In late dusks, smothered sighs of pain melt into tomorrow,
When waltzing sounds lift and fall in veiled irrelevance.
Sacred moments are captured in the twilight’s golden yolk of creation,
While crystalline waves of wind ring a farewell to the fate of the day.
A lone dove cuts through the cinnamon clouds,
In a final dance through the heavens' gate, resplendent.
With eternally youthful dreams soaked in golden honey,
It bears its flight, gliding gracefully in an aerial ballet.
How fleetingly life can slip from our grasp
When passion yearns for the gaze of its beloved.
Echoes linger in the dusk, reminders of lost mysteries,
Treasures pilfered from the darkness of oblivion, from the temple of dusty memory.
I stand my vigil as infinity spills across the heavens
And wonder swells the truth within my heart...
The sky catches fire from its dying rays; purposes scatter like ash.
Each rising star is a promise that all that is lost is finally found.
Frozen in a straw stand, I dream with eyes cast towards bleeding horizons,
I see every contour you desired quiver above, convinced there's still room for forgiveness.
The dusk, that poet who writes in colors, turns my weeping into a silent hymn,
For in the silent citadel of the night, we both wander, peeling veil from veil.
Like the dove, I yearn to traverse curtains of golden trails,
To perhaps discover in flight the meaning lost in the turmoil of time.
But wings are lost in the dark outline, when stars light their soft beacons,
And I lie down in the lap of night with your memories cut out, like bread for passing birds.
Dusk overwhelms us with its mystery, just when we wish to see clearer,
And in this interlude, as day capitulates, a yearning stirs and grows,
Under the beam of the last light, your vow resonates, wordless but steadfast,
In the evening song, whispering among the stars, the promise that you will remain, forever.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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