I have always believed in people,
Their boundless capacity to become better,
Their quiet potential to rise above.
I believed in the rain,
Its silver threads washing away all that is bitter,
And in the sunrise that follows,
A promise etched in gold.
I believed in feelings, raw and unspoken,
In the vivid green of untamed life,
In leaves that have yet to whisper their final word.
I believed in all that stirs the soul with joy,
In the Romanian song, proud and enduring,
A melody that roots me in who I am.
I believed in true love,
And, though the years have weathered me,
Though some may call me foolish or naïve,
I believe still.
For belief is the quiet rebellion of the heart,
And I am its loyal servant.
You laughed,
And we laughed together.
You cried,
And I did not hear you.
Sometimes we are so absorbed in ourselves,
So lost within the narrow corridors of our own minds,
That the pain of those beside us
Passes like a speeding car through a quiet rest stop,
Unnoticed, fleeting.
We wait,
For someone to clap their hands,
To smile,
To become the echo of yesterday.
But have you ever paused to think
That yesterday
Is not today?
Leave the gate of your heart open,
Let the tumult of seasons and conflicting thoughts pass.
Keep the light within your soul burning brightly,
And you will rise,
Above the mind,
Above the noise.
After all,
Everything around us,
The whisper of the wind, the laughter of the sky,
The small and unassuming wonders,
Is so achingly beautiful.
And it all deserves our attention.
Your eyelids, like tender petals,
Shield the beautiful dreams,
Veiled in mystery,
They drift silently to me.
And my eyelids,
Heavy with longing,
Gather these dreams
And place them carefully on my favorite shelf.
But, alas...
It has been so long
Since we spoke of our dreams.
What a pity,
To let silence stretch between us,
To suffer in solitude like fools,
While time slips through our fingers,
A thief that ages us before we even notice.
Outside, it is so vibrantly spring,
Even the blossoms in my dreams
Carry the crisp scent of green apple.
Parallel dreams stretch endlessly toward infinity,
Yet all I desire
Is you, here beside me,
On this small patch of earth.
Because my love for you
Is boundless.
They called it illness,
But it had no shape,
Only a shadow
Growing inside the silence.
It wore no face,
No cell mutation,
No organ to slice or scan,
Only the weight of a whisper
Spoken again and again:
“You should be afraid.”
It crept in through wires,
Screens lit with panic,
News fed like poison
At dinnertime.
It taught us
To doubt the sun,
To fear the air,
To lock our doors,
To scan each other’s breath
As if love were infection.
We did not see
The cages built from pixels,
Nor the puppeteers
With clean suits and hidden hands
Feeding us phantoms
While draining our will.
And so we shrank,
In joy, in courage,
In soul.
But a few of us remembered:
That fear
Is a system,
A language coded
To keep us compliant.
And freedom?
It begins the moment
You step out of that darkness,
Look up at the blue sky, maybe for the first time,
And with tears in your eyes, you say:
“No.”
Listening to a song by The Cure,
I remember, today is Friday.
And suddenly,
My dreams, like restless swarms of bees,
Shake me awake to reality.
For me, every day feels like a Friday,
Drifting untethered in the vastness of space,
Yet anchored by the quiet hum of inner vibrations.
Regret does not shadow my time.
Why should it?
After all,
If, for some, every day feels like a Monday,
That is their burden to bear,
Not mine.
I am drawn to the colors of the rainbow,
Its promise arching through the sky.
And because today is Friday,
That rainbow spills its light into my soul,
Filling it with warmth,
And love.
God, in His infinite wisdom,
Did His work masterfully.
He shaped the universe, vast and intricate,
And to inhabit its grandeur,
He created the soul.
The soul multiplied,
Adopting countless forms,
Until, on this humble planet,
Man emerged.
When man climbed higher in his understanding,
He began to think.
And therein lay the tragedy.
For instead of marveling at the simple joys,
He wove lies.
Instead of fostering harmony,
He crafted stress.
Instead of cherishing what was justly his,
He craved endlessly for more.
And because man conjured the word "infinite,"
His flaws knew no bounds:
Foolishness, envy, hatred, carelessness, greed,
Each a shadow cast by his own ambition.
Yet, somewhere beyond this Earth,
I believe other worlds thrive differently,
Free of this ceaseless chaos.
And so, God stands at a crossroads,
Weighing the choice:
To clap His hands and start anew,
Or let time untangle the threads of man's folly.
But amid the wreckage, love endures.
And because love persists,
God grants us another chance,
A fragile gift of hope.
Illusions, confusions,
You drift, unsure of who you wish to be,
Tangled in the shifting currents of desire,
Each day blurring the lines
Between what you long to have
And what you yearn to give.
Arguments, solutions,
You wonder if those around you shape your path,
If their hands meddle in the clay of your life.
Do they?
Or don’t they?
Life spins like a relentless carousel,
Its lights dazzling, its motion unforgiving.
If you have the courage, climb aboard.
If not, remain at the edge.
And, if I may say:
Do not comment from the sidelines.
Delusions, confusions,
You are an hourglass, a wisp of smoke,
Your path obscured,
Your direction uncertain,
Caught in the endless loop of indecision.
Discussions, solutions,
Stand firm.
Do not allow others to trespass
Into the sanctuary of your soul,
Unless she
Is truly your own.
Love,
That intricate game for two,
A folly crafted for the bold and the foolish alike,
Demands a careful hand.
Its board, a shifting mosaic,
Bright as the unclouded sun,
Chill as relentless rain,
Set across terrains of mounting difficulty.
Surely, it was never intended
For the unprepared,
The untrained heart,
Or the trembling novice.
For love,
In its glorious, perilous design,
Is no game for amateurs.
If this universe were to unravel,
Collapsing into silence,
And a new one bloomed from its ashes,
I would still want you.
Words, how hollow they seem in this moment.
The simple "I love you,"
Whispered by countless others,
Is but a dry wind brushing against winter's door,
A shadow of the depth I feel for you.
Even if I sought to understand,
To feel,
To grasp the unyielding truth of it all,
I would still stand powerless before the enormity
Of this one certainty:
You love me.
And in that love,
I find life,
A reason to breathe,
To be.
Had I known you would leave,
Leaving behind only cold shadows,
Mocking echoes of my foolishness,
I would have stood against the tide of time,
Nailed those thoughtless words
To the silence they deserved.
If you go,
Take with you all that was best in me.
For I loved you,
With a depth I doubt anyone ever could.
Now, words fail me,
And my soul lingers as a shadow,
A wisp caught between grief and memory.
In my quiet thoughts, I wish you well…
Yet, Lord, may I dare to hope?
That angels might descend from heaven
On some fateful day,
And that in their light,
You might forgive me.
They say that sincerity
is like a bird in flight.
Fear of speaking freely,
To say what you really think,
leads to broken wings,
To broken hearts
by the jagged cliffs of lies.
I chose to soar.
And those who cling to the shadows of indifference.
can live quite comfortably on earth,
But their comfort lies
in ignorance and foolishness.
If tears of truth should fall,
Let us not grieve, let us rejoice.
For in this vast universe,
Everything unfolds with purpose.
Through the quiet sacrifice of these tears,
We are shaped anew,
Better, wiser, more radiant.
So if, in a fleeting moment,
You feel them welling,
Do not hold them back.
Let them fall.
“Violet! Violet!”
Cries the child within,
As colors swirl around him,
Dancing, playing,
Drawing him into their midst,
Molding him gently
Into a meadow of light,
Near the stillness of a kiss.
It feels so good…
Now, it feels so good.
The mind nearly overtakes the soul,
Yet, in this outpouring of pure energy,
The child within weeps,
A blessed cry,
A long-awaited cry,
The cry of reconciliation.
“Why does spring come?”
The Teacher smiles,
“That’s simply the way of things,” he replies.
But…
If nothing in this world happens by chance,
Then might spring itself
Be the fruit of love?
The Teacher pauses,
Caught in the complexity of the question.
Finally, he answers:
“Purple is just a color, like any other.”
And yet,
Are we so easily led,
Steered into paths imposed upon us?
Are we mad, we who believe in the infinity of the universe?
Look outside.
Really look.
Spring has arrived.
And outside this window,
It is as real as love itself.
In the memory of that kiss,
I toy with my dreams,
Chasing them away,
Spinning them into endless circles,
Cheating myself, now and then,
Imagining your arms around me,
Your lips pressing softly to mine.
I once believed
I could control my feelings,
That I could hide behind another version of myself,
Navigating a sea of endless obstacles,
Because I am.
But I didn’t know you existed.
And then, paradoxically,
Meeting you made me stronger.
You filled a space I never knew was empty.
With that kiss,
The dark thoughts fled,
Replaced by hues of radiant purple.
Lord, how deeply I love you...
Today is a gorgeous day,
The sky stretches endlessly, a canvas of blue that inspires.
Outside my window,
A tree stands steadfast, its branches reaching upward.
A bird perches delicately on a twig,
A quiet marvel of the world’s simplicity.
Out there, somewhere,
A world brims with wonder, waiting to be known.
Within me burns a desire,
A flame yearning to take form.
And there is time,
Enough time,
To make it real.
For isn’t it so?
Time always stands with the strong.