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But the color…
Folder:
Personales On the eve of forever, where rivers collide,
I stood at the edge of a fragile dilemma.
A road stretching forward, or folding in time,
Where your heart’s quiet language unraveled in rhyme.
Who I was, a flame in the night’s endless darkness,
Who I’m meant to become, like the roots of old trees.
But the color I wore was a curtain, a wall,
A silence that turned our spring into fall.
I never glimpsed the ghost behind your gaze,
A mask carved from fear, lost in a haze.
Prejudice, a storm that darkened the skies,
Blinding the dawn that could’ve been our sunrise.
You couldn’t see past the canvas of my skin,
Nor hear the wild song that thundered within.
Rolando Matias
