Shadow.
The sky had faded beneath a heavy blanket of clouds,
a veil of sadness draped over the soul,
enveloping everything in a silent, suffocating darkness.
The wind, cold and relentless,
whispered indecipherable words,
while a distant thunder slowly dissolved into the thick silence of the evening.
The lightning, like bright wounds in the deep darkness,
ripped through the desolation surrounding me for a brief moment,
making everything fragile and unsettling.
Loneliness wrapped around me like a thin, fragile, and biting blanket,
tightening my heart until it bled,
while inside me grew a silent, dull pain.
Anguish was an invisible knot,
tied tight in my chest,
a mute weight that found no voice or relief.
And yet, amidst that endless emptiness,
there hid a painful calm,
a held breath that seemed to suspend me
between being and not being.
I didn't understand the reason for that day,
nor the meaning of the melancholy devouring me from within.
I was there, lost in a darkness made of blurred memories and broken hopes,
unable to find a light to guide me.
And yet, despite everything,
there in the house where I live,
the sea stretched out on the horizon, calm and unchanging,
while the window boxes were filled with red roses, vivid as a burning heart.
I leaned out the window, staring at those blood-red roses swaying lightly in the wind,
and down there, beneath me, was my brother.
He was the only presence that lit a light in that evening of melancholy,
sitting outside, silent,
immersed in a shadow that seemed to both protect and challenge him.
I watched him, distant yet so near,
while the weight of the world seemed suspended between us,
in the fragile truce of that night.
