Storm of Sighs

The shadows dance, silent and fleeting,
upon the empty hands of a lost dream,
shadows of rain that does not fall, of wind
that does not sing, but brushes the spent soul.
In the heavy breath of a tense sky,
memories chase like distant flashes,
confused in the roar of a heart that is silent,
between longing and nothingness, between dream and reality.
Yet in this void, a whisper ignites,
small as nothing, but warm as the sun,
another thought, another hope that hides itself
in the heart of a tempest, of a dream that does not die.
Nothing remains eternal beneath the stormy sky,
but in those faded eyes the world still smiles,
and among the dancing shadows, life rewrites itself,
in a final caress, fleeting and solid.