Somewhere, where the Universe bends like a swan’s neck,
And the stars forget to shine,
There swims a Whale.
Old as the world’s first question,
A giant that never sleeps.
On his back – a city – a petal of time.
There, houses grow like crystals made of thoughts,
And the roads are a weave of melodies and dreams.
The light there is soft, like a mother’s whisper –
It does not shine; it embraces.
The trees are made of sand that remembers the waves,
And their roots are made of the voices of forgotten songs.
The inhabitants of this city have no bodies –
They are emotions that have learned to walk.
You might meet Joy on a lamppost,
Or Sorrow, sketching a new constellation.
Once every hundred thousand sighs, the city tilts.
And someone falls into the world of dreams, while someone else – awakens.
That is how poets are born.
Cosmogony
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