Time

That time does not exist, always perceived 

as the ghost that lives 

in a mechanized heart.

Let there be no impatience, for it harbours 

every hint of poisoned uncertainty, 

thrown violently at the heart, 

like a dart at a target.

Let there be no darkness where glowing souls 

can be extinguished, 

nor excessive luminosity capable of blinding 

a measured thought. 

That only the ear exists, capable of hearing 

the echo of a song camouflaged 

in the thickest shadows.