When a flower blooms
it does not ask the sky
if rain will kiss its petals.
It only opens itself
to the dew
that absorbs the silence
of the trembling leaves.
In the dark of the night
it weaves a story without words
speaking in the language of scents
and entrusts secrets
to the wind
that never returns.
Who sees?
Who knows?
It doesn't care
like a star dancing
on the edge of the ocean
only burning forever
not for eyes
that stop for a moment.
That's life:
shining, blooming, falling.
There is no sound
only invisible traces
where every breath
is a step towards
the unspoken.
In a flower without questions
is stored the secret of an endless search
and in every bloom
is implied the beauty of life
that has never been had.
That's how it is!
