Hoping
Puçol (València, Spain), March 2022 |
I keep time at arm’s length,
since it is a constant reminder
of how ephemeral life,
or happiness, or pleasure can be.
Even so, a voice inside
tells me shyly: as long as there is time,
hope can live and blossom.
I so cling to hope
just to keep in mind
that whatever might be,
to hope means to be alive.
And I live then both time and hope
lulled in a serene calmness:
the goal is close by,
my days are about to smile.
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