I dreamed,  sitting on the banks of time,

I just turned my gaze into the river of eternity.

It flows incessantly.  Around the air is warm but very dark

as born   of the black soul of the night.

A light breeze whispered:

“It is here that time is reflected into eternity?”.

Then clear as the limpid water I saw it.

The destiny of man as that one of any other being,

but neither his pain nor his longing.

God chose him as the caretaker of His creation,

but he thought of himself to be its master: so, he failed.

God choose him as the recipient of history,

but he thought  himself to be its maker: so, he failed.

God chose him as the reciter of the poems of peace,

but he thought himself   to have composed the verses: so, he failed.

Pride and egoism as a mantel

and the misery of the heart as shield,

wandered in loneliness in the crowded lanes of the world,

mourning for the darkness but fleeing away from light,

searching for peace but boasting about the war,

speaking about God but disclaiming His law.

In the end, every human being says:

“I saw thousands of skies, I read all the books, I tasted every flavour!”

But what last?

Then void of colour becomes the world, since it lacks of light.

The darkness, the desert, the night, the ice in the soul,

Humanity is lost in time without eternity,

Without hope, nurturing a deaf pain,

which hurts in the secret and delivers dark omens.

Who will give him back time?

Who will bring him back to light?

And Peace?

And Conflict?

Who will be able to differentiate again their colours?

The blind man longing for light,

He will then choose with his heart

and wandering aimlessly,

sometimes run and sometimes stands still

and listen….

until at the limits of time,

already exhausted, without any hope and any fear,

looks into himself and he feels for the first time

in his own pain the misery of the all world, in his own conflict the one of the whole humanities.

And he understands his own higher destiny and finally he sleeps in the bosom of eternity.