The Echo of the Never Born

A dull and slow rhythm beats in my chest,
The living memory of one yet unborn,
A faint echo within the vast silence,
Of a sun that will never rise to greet.
Faded images, faces never seen,
Absent caresses, silent promises,
Light phantoms of loves that were never sad,
Beneath the skin, roots have grown.
It is not regret that the heart yearns for,
But an eternal wave of what could have been,
A fallen star, a flame
Doomed never to ignite again.
Thus, in the darkness of its deep shell,
The heart beats, a clock that knows,
That a gentle shadow still wanders the world,
Of a future that will never be born.