Writing to you from the edge (Marcella Boccia)
From the edge of a world torn in silence,Where the mountains bleed and the river cries,I write to you, the flame of my thoughts,On pages soaked with moonlight's sigh.Beneath the weight of an ancient sky,I trace your name on the winds that pass,And the echoes of our souls intertwine,Dancing with shadows, flickering like glass.You, who speak in a language of stars,In the softest hum of forgotten days,Your words, like sacred birds, fly so far,Across the borderlines where silence stays.Here, where time is broken and thin,Where history bleeds from every stone,I find myself, caught in the grip of sin,A lover's dream on a war-worn throne.But in this darkness, your voice is light,A beacon that swells in the hollow of night.I send you my truth, veiled in despair,As I stand on the edge—between hope and air.Can you hear me, love, from this hollow sea?Or am I but a shadow lost in the tragedy?
