Constellations

On my skin, God traced constellations,
ethereal forms that whisper stories
in their infinite and celestial dance.
Fixed, still, they draw geometry
like a divine language,
a code I would try to decipher,
only for it to dissolve in a torrent of eternal sweetness.

Those constellations, tireless,
remain etched into my being,
like a sigh in the memory of the wind.
My skin, folding with the years
like an old parchment,
preserves its essence intact,
a perpetual echo that,
with each cycle of time,
transforms into a magical legacy,
an immortal whisper of the divine.

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Published by Gigliola

Author of Resilience, passionate about poetry, human rights, culture, and travel. Lifelong blogger, scientist, and STEM student with a love for dance — and always exploring new passions.

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