The realm of the Sun and Moon
Where ancient relics breathed in golden haze,
Surrounded by tomes of forgotten tongues,
Their pages whispering spells and silences.
I know not if it was a dream or a waking fate—
Only that I stood within that timeless place,
Among winged spirits, guardians of old lore,
Keepers of art, of secrets rare and bright.
Amidst the briars and enchanted rose,
Their fragrance weaves spells upon the air,
I glimpsed the runes of magic, veiled in mist—
Meanings beyond the reach of mortal mind.
Yet, ignorance fades when the heart connects,
And whispers join the silent sacred lore.
Graceful creatures lingered in the air,
Above, as if to spy the stars’ embrace,
The firmament is adorned with pastel hues,
Veiled softly by the twilight’s whispered clouds,
That sometimes hinted at storms yet to unfold,
A brewing tempest cloaked in quiet light.
Within the sacredness and splendour of this realm of art and wisdom,
I found myself in a state of amnesia and torpor,
as if someone had erased all memory from my mind.
I no longer recalled my past,
Nor did I grasp the very notion of time.
I had become part of that marvellous vision,
that dream,
that chimaera —
untouchable and unseen by human eyes.
All that my heart could grasp
was splendour and sublimity,
and the eternity —
though fleeting —
of all that my eyes perceived:
The essence of beauty,
and the essence of timeless wisdom.
The realm of the Sun and Moon unfolded like a casket
Of precious gems and arcane secrets.
There I lingered, a captive and a nymph of the ancient library,
Adorned with transcendent roses in full splendour,
And with thorny briars, sharp and unforgiving,
Poised to carve wounds deep within my heart.
Sweet were the poems I inscribed
Within its still-blank manuscripts,
Each word etched by the whispers of my heart.
And in the silence, the glow of the firmament
Wrapped me gently in its hues—
At times resplendent, at times shadowed,
Like the mystery veiled within the night.
Elisabetta
