In the shadow of the strange road, a silence stood and wondered?
How many stones did I throw without ever measuring their weight?
He doesn't know.
Life changes face at the turn, a step separates light from darkness, and the one you look down on may be carrying a cracked sky.
We judged the wound
without knowing the knife.
We judged the step
without wearing his melted shoe.
And all this because the conscience fell asleep
in armchairs of certainty,
forgetting that the wind never chose who to bend.
So leave your hands open,
not to show,
but to fit in.
Because at the end of the journey, we are all looking for the same embrace
from the same light that awaits us.
When you become a judge of other people's silences, you forget that your own voice, by chance, did not become a sob.
photo Pexels, https://pixabay.com
