By Thomas Taragni
The only light a neon that paints from afar,
the silence of a neonatology ward,
while out there, a hospital embraces the night.
The first tired wailing of an infant spread out over space,
through the walls of this desolate Jericho
like the horn that heralds the rebirth of life,
while all around sparks, to millions, switch off.
Take a breath, without haste, while tasting sips of the world,
after the kiss from the flame that welcomed you.
The stay will be brief
but, if you can go beyond the beauty of the stars,
inside the mystery of the images you will record,
rising to the glowing touch of feelings,
you will find the sense that fits you lightly on the soul
like the blanket that protects you from the cold
of this new fragment of existence.
Thomas Taragni is an Italian philosophy student but, most of all, an insatiable learner. He writes to heal and understand, record the universality of the many faces of human sorrow, and the little and enchanting hope that hides beneath them. For more works, visit his personal profile on Instagram @tho_m95