The wind blows through the palm trees
like someone passing by without a sound,
but leaves the trace of its presence
in the song of the birds.

The sun is already low,
and the earth, warm, breathes slowly.
Each step is a reminder
that time is a road that doesn't turn back.

Life is made of small gestures:
the worker’s embrace,
the child's smile,
the gaze of the woman who makes a home a...

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In the vast plains of time, where the wind is lost
Man, with curious eyes, gazes at the horizon
And in the infinity of the sky, which stretches beyond being
Possibilities blossom, like stars in a distant night

What will become of me, in the paths of chance?
Which road, by the moonlight, will stretch before my step?
I feel in my chest the pulsing desire of a vast dream
But doubt, like fog,...

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every morning,
a parade of perfect lives,
smiles meticulously adjusted,
breakfast that looks more like a work of art,
but deep down,
it's just granola and a desperate hunt for likes.

people transform into characters,
each post a script,
each photo a scene,
life in shining squares
where reality dissolves like sugar in water.

hashtags dance on the screen,
like confetti at a birthday ...

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She was poetry, a dance in the air
Moving lightly, like a verse floating there
Hair in the wind, unpretentious lines
Her smile illuminated cloudy times
He, a simple man, lived raw prose each day
With calloused hands, unaware of the way
Life in bold letters, beauty lost in the grind
Chapters predictable, meaning hard to find
At the craft fair, a sun shining bright
He watched from afar, not...

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In the silence that resonates,
a lament of absences,
the flowers bloom in the shadows,
whispers of a life that fades away.

Eyes searching the horizon
for a trace of hope,
but pain, like a poem,
is sculpted in the words of the day.

The city is a labyrinth of steps
that reflects solitude at every corner -
laughter dissolves in the wind
like falling petals,
disguised in the chaos.

...

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Ah, to suffer,
is not just an invisible burden
that we drag through the streets of life.
It is the mark, the scar,
of existence that shapes us.

To suffer is the pain
that teaches us to see the world
with weary eyes,
where reality is not a straight line
but a labyrinth of thorns and hopes.

In the deep silence of the night,
where the moon whispers secrets of pain,
we find the echo of...

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I see the past as a brighter place, noble friend
Beyond stone walls and castles old
Where hypocrisy hides in velvet’s embrace
And troubadours sing of love and sorrow bold
Life then was clear, as abundant as mead
Rich with jousts, tournaments, tales to reveal
From the heavens above to the stone floors beneath
We rode without reins, our spirits free

Love, like a magical potion, made us dre...

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