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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