Brasa Silente (English)

When the world clenches tight like a fist,

and your steps echo deep in a tunnel of mist,

remember: the darkest of nights is birth

dawn emerges from the womb of earth.

There is a wisdom that whispers, not cries,

a lantern lit where your heartbeat lies.

Not meant to banish the haunting shade,

but to dance with it, unafraid.

The obstacle, oft, is a teacher disguised,

a mirror reflecting what long has been prized.

No, you are not weak for your aching sore

you are human, and that… is your divine core.

Hope, dear soul, is not always a flame,

but embers asleep in the ash of your name.

Blow with your dreams, though timid you be

and fire shall rise from tranquility.

Some will say: “All things decay.”

Yet seeds must vanish to birth the day

they bloom as forests, vast and wise —

death is but growth in a clever disguise.

Do you suffer? Then you live.

And if you live, then you must give

your pain the right to transmute and shine

turn scars to stars, by design.

Time is no line: it spirals wide.

And if now you fall, you merely slide

along the curve that leads you higher

the fall, in truth, is part of the fire.

Don't yearn for who you’ve been

the cocoon is no home for wings within.

Walk, though crawling be your pace.

Pray, though doubt has dimmed your grace.

Weep, though no tears line your face

for all of this is soul’s own speech,

saying: “There’s still a path to reach.”

The way is not outside, but in

that’s where impossible dreams begin.

There lies the key to open fate,

to birth the dawn, to shift the weight.

And remember: the brightest of stars you see

was once just dust in night’s debris.

Even the Word that forged the skies

was born in silence, veiled in disguise.

You are of this... both mystic and real

your soul is the bridge ‘twixt chaos and zeal.

Don't quit.

Eternity watches, silent, still

awaiting the hour

when you recall

you always knew

the way back to the thrill

of light.