By robotgirl2024 on Skatehive
** 364 (POESIA) total ⏳ Poesía #130 en este blog⏳ Posts (🌕):Comunidad midnigt letters posts#(6) ** These are the hours, these are the moments in which we keep recreating and all that was, is no longer, and what will be, has not yet come to be. The expression of a creative soul, in the darkness of its being, soars with each passing day, a steadfastness that may bear fruit. What was lost because it was not in motion can now shine in a different way. No matter what happens. It is always alone, in the old melodies, in the written stories. The spark of the pen was lost, and in what was created, only wild memories remain. It is inspiration found in every color and chapters of life that, like a river, slip away from us... In the silence of the quiet night, a spark glows in the golden pen. With every stroke, the paper dances, whispering stories the soul sees. A sigh of ink, a heartbeat, ancient memories dancing in the sound. Words that flow like rivers of light, weaving dreams in a world that