At night, when I remember our love once more
At night, when I remember our love once more,
Us, stained by the shadow that glides in, trembling beneath the gentle star,
Held tight in embrace, like two nomads under the infinite vault of pigments,
Eternally swayed by the time's carousel, in the deep of the shadow we catch.
Asleep in the heavy veil of sleep, secret and profound,
We travel in spirit on primordial paths of lava,
Whispering eternally about the calm echo that gives peace to the heart,
In dreams, we sail on an azure sea that swallows us into the vast.
And there, on the thaumaturgic beach of uncertain dreams,
In the ignorance of tomorrow, of our bifurcated presence,
We wait for love to be the alchemist, spinning lead into gold,
Yet still together, still eternal, with the end always a step away.
Our love, a painting in the shadows of Caravaggio of souls,
Does not ask to be deciphered but dreams to fly without bounds,
And if we shall wander among the days, the love that bound us,
Will perish, not beneath the starry canvases, not under the celestial spark,
But will fade in our mistake of putting it to the test.
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