by Andrada Costoiu
Seconds, flying out the window of time.
Swift, invisible birds that never return.
They vanish into the vast unwritten sky,
each carrying the echo of a heartbeat,
each whispering a question no clock can answer.
Within,
Womb admissions are granted,
Exit is guaranteed.
Between those two gates, we wander—
pilgrims in borrowed light,
scribes with trembling hands,
writing our names upon the shifting sand of being.
Once here, everyone is writing.
Some etch poems in laughter,
some carve essays in grief.
There are old books,
their pages softened by the fingertips of memory,
and new books,
crisp and eager, smelling of possibility.
Critics gather like shadows—
their pens sharp, their mirrors angled—
but so too do the kind ones,
those who read with the eyes of mercy
and call every story splendid
for daring to exist at all.
“Can you imagine a more perfect venue?”
an old man asks, his voice trembling
between wisdom and wonder.
He catches the gaze of his wife—
her eyes two soft lanterns of remembering—
and smiles, recalling
how they once learned the fragile language of vows.
Frail hand in his, she stands,
“No,” she says. “
“It was perfect.”
And together they walk,
slowly, beneath the saber arch of those still living,
Toward the exit.
“You are the most stunning goddess,” he whispers,
As they walk outside
and the sun—an ancient witness—leans closer,
as if to hear her answer.
“I love you,” she says,
and in that syllable,
centuries turn to dust.
Somewhere, unseen,
the cover of their book’s final print is being issued—
their title embossed in light,
their chapters bound by time’s own thread.
For the first time ever,
they look at the house from the outside—
the house of life,
its windows golden with motion.
Inside, the rooms hum with creation:
children writing, lovers arguing,
thinkers building small bridges of meaning
across the silence between stars.
The lights are on.
The air vibrates with stories.
In a day that still exists,
And through the open window,
seconds continue to fly—
shimmering like dust in sunlight,
vanishing into the great, unending sentence
we call eternity.
© Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2020- . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2020 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
My poetry book “Love poems: insights into the complicated mystery of love” is available on Amazon. You can get it here. Please write a review if you get around it. I would really appreciate it.
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