magoski
There is no anger left in watching.
Only an emptiness of acceptance.
A hollow calm
unfinished wishes
The river moves
slowly
patiently
toward the sea.
And the sea—
the sea does not judge
the sorrow it inherits.
It opens
its endless body
and keeps the dreams alive
in motion.
Because dreams
cannot drown.
They only change shape.
They rise again
as mist
as cloud
as rain
as the quiet promise
that somewhere
a child
is still listening
to the wind
telling the old story
again.