The Time When Dreams are Born

This is the time when dreams are born,

As the days melt away,

Crafting paintings that cannot be erased.

Letters that are written from the eyes,

Goals that are changing directions —

Can one travel alone?

This is the moment that yearns for love's touch,

Igniting a gradual movement in both hearts,

An overwhelming period of youthfulness.

This is the age that walks a fine line,

As passion rises with real dreams.

Lovers long for the blaze of friendship.

Could it be the secret of nature?

Love is the sweetest language in the world, screaming in the heart.

How can the sea leave the feet dry?

How can bonds form if we claim to be different?

What is the use of wings to a bird that cannot fly?

Why does a heart that can't open still eagerly dream?

With what desires do solitary feet tread?

Are they searching for hands that spark light?

We have limits even in our relationship with our mother,

But we have no limitations in friendship.

No one can resist unstoppable desires that stir in the depths of the heart.

I don't know what happens to the air; it lacks humidity,

Infusing loneliness and beckoning me as the sun sets.

Each night ends without sleep.

I feel like talking to myself, closing my eyes.

If your name appears on the paths I tread, whispers echo within my heart.

Sometimes a short temper comes, melting like snow.

We can endure an earthquake but can't withstand a heart quake.