The Secret Beat

In the silence of empty pockets,
a dreamer keeps his warmth guarded,
invisible stars pulse in the heart,
a hidden rhythm that defies the morning.
Each beat is a universe in miniature,
a gaze lost among the folds of time,
a desire that ignites, subtle, silent,
like the needle brushing eternity.
Within the folds of his coat, a thousand voleb hide,
whispers of galaxies, dreams of distant lands,
every star a secret, an echo of life,
ready to shine when the world falls asleep.
And so, in the dark, the dreamer waits,
for the beat of the stars, hidden and free,
carrying with it infinity, in an empty pocket,
ready to give himself to the dream, without return. #

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