My dreams slide
Like a row
Of sunken galleons,
Lost in the depths
Of your vast sea.
Where do Icarus' wings lie?
Where is the skein
Of Ariadne tangled
To guide my return to peace?
In this attempt to rediscover
The path to happiness,
My dreams, once crystalline,
Fade, become exhausted,
Leaving behind a catalog
Of broken tides,
Nocturnal labyrinths,
Submerged galleons,
An ocean without a horizon,
A dead-end street,
A shipwreck of lost wings.
This Russian roulette
Surrounds me with its confusion,
This compass rose points
In the wrong direction.
I navigate without a compass,
Without a certain direction,
In the unfathomable labyrinth
Of disappointment.
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