Sometimes I am not there, I get lost in the dream,
I lock myself inside, in a small corner.
My voice does not appear, nor the echo of the wind,
only a soft murmur, a deep silence.
I take shelter in my world, a sacred refuge,
where shadows dance and time is silent.
Not because I believe that no one can understand,
but to find myself, for an instant to be reborn.
In solitude my thoughts sprout,
flow like rivers, without formulas or laments.
The stars look at me, their light is my guide,
in this labyrinth, my soul grows cold.
Perhaps in this confinement, I find clarity,
a deep whisper that longs for freedom.
Sometimes I am not, life is a canvas,
and in each dark stroke, I find myself immense.
