Solstice

Life grows, blooms and withers,
vivid colors give way to decay,
numb in the cold of rest,
in the dark they merge with the source.

Life never runs dry,
the sun sinks red into the sea,
illuminates golden mountains in the morning,
caress the eyes of rested faces.

The end is the sleep of the cosmic bards,
the sparkling dance of new beginnings,
that gives birth to a new pulse of existence,
kneading forms in the heat of inspiration.

A restless hearts trembles fearfully
in front of the weight of the death knell,
holding to the shade of the broken mirror
and mourns their image of shards.
….
I sink into the depths of the ocean,
into the piercing silence of blackness,
the weight of the water quells my restlessness,
boiling under the armor of fear.

In the darkness of despair,
a ray of trust shines,
quietly hums in the expanse of the sea,
which calls the blissful radiance of angelic hearts—

and the deep of the oceans turns into the top of golden mountains.