Image
There are songs that not only sound
like whispers carried away by the wind,
they pierce us with their sweet vigour,
carrying the echo of an old dew.
They reach corners where the sun does not shine,
weaving memories, breaking the rubber
that envelops the soul in its grey solitude,
their mantle of notes fills us with truth.
The winds sound, orchestras of life,
their floating notes, lost roots,
seep deep, like an old love,
into the deaf folds of our pain.
A chord can be a silent cry,
a burning whisper on the skin of longing,
and in an instant the soul reveals itself,
the song nests in us, turns us, flies us.
There are songs that don't just sound,
they weave the essence of what doesn't stop,
with each note a new world begins,
there are songs that live and pass through us.