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There are emotions that can be explained with ink,
stories lived in each fragrance.
Others, with words, weave their cloak,
in the murmur of the wind, in the cry,
but there are secrets kept in the chest,
that not even the pen can trace on a bed.
But there are those, deep and dense,
that escape the fire of our consciences,
like shadows that haunt the dark night,
whispering truths that the soul assures.
They are silent tears, internal cries,
an abyss of lights, an eternal mourning,
complex emotions, abysses of being,
that are never heard, never seen.
There is a world in the mind where few glimpse,
a deep labyrinth, the divine essence,
that remains silent, like the thorn.
And in the dance of the soul, in its quiet rhythm,
there are emotions that will never find their legacy.
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This is so deep! I feel so sad reading this. There are really feelings that we tend to keep inside.