Unwritten Silence

At the beginning of an unwritten poem
there are colors that the light demands.
The sun, on its golden throne, hides,
letting the non-words flood at night.

In the elongated lines of verse, secrets travel,
in murmurs that witches whisper in dreams.
The goddess, in her silver cloak, awakens,
and in the stars a silence asserts itself.

In this silence that darkness embraces
each star-colored thought intertwines.
For a single verse, in its infinite dance,
can weave the whirlwind of the senses.

And in the stillness of this unwritten moment
the joy of the spirit declaims its infinity.
For every verse that the soul composes
predicts an end to an unwritten poem.