Among a Thousand Names

Among a thousand names,

I have lost my own.

Among a hundred little stories,

this novel remains unfinished.

How many days of dreams

have wandered into unknown nights,

leaving me with empty hands?

Desires have died

in the loneliness of evening.

A handful of deep darkness

has scattered in every direction.

I keep searching alone.

Among a sky full of stars,

I still have not found

my star.

Sometimes the sky of love

turns from blue to black.

The same sky,

yet love becomes nothing

but imagination.

I keep running,

chasing some illusion,

toward a place

where there is no silence.

And among a hundred beginnings,

this is where I end.

Somewhere between

a thousand sunlit days,

a single dark cloud

has poured its rain,

and written

my epitaph.