IN THE WUND OF QUESTIONS

I walk
without knowing if I walk toward myself,
or drift away
in the whirlwind of time
where meanings dissolve
like grains of salt
in the water of a mirage.

I ask my shadow:
“Did you exist before me?”
And it laughs silently,
as if existence were a heavy joke
and dreaming a stumble into absence.

Everything resembles something,
yet nothing remains
as it was yesterday.
Even the stars
grow old and forget their paths.

What is the difference between life
and a quiver of light
on a sleeper’s eyelid?
And what separates
long regret
from the waiting for dusk?

Every door
leads to another door,
and every road
returns to its illusion.

I do not know,
and I do not seek certainty,
for in doubt there is room
to be
all that I have never been.

Mirrors gaze at me
without knowing the name.
Was I myself
when I believed life was a question
with no meaning?

Perhaps
everything in existence is a question
that longs for life as an answer,
but only the echo
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• © TAGHRID BOU MERHI – LEBANON – BRAZIL