After

After

Everything leaves light behind.

Not everything past must be carried along.
Not everything lived must keep growing on.

Not every footprint is leading ahead.
Sometimes letting go is the turn that you take.

I didn't rise higher — I just became still.
Not because I grew tired — I learned how to hear.

Because I forgave, because I understood:
Anger builds no home — it remembers what hurt.

If the world is all noise, I will choose a pause.
If the truth is a scream, I'll choose words without force.

If pain is a memory, I won't erase its trace.
I just won't let it take my name or my place.

I don't search for the guilty, don't gather the pieces below.
I simply step across the bottom — and let myself go on.

Sometimes I just want to remain in the warmth,
Not destroy what is holding together within.

If tomorrow begins not with slogans, but silence instead,
Then we've learned to be more than the guilt that we bear.

Not everything must thunder, not everything must burn.
After brightness and noise, relic light still returns.

This is simply my road — without banners or names,
Where no step is for heights, no step is for fame.

I haven't become new. I'm no different inside.
I just managed at last to remain who I am.

I make no promises, ask nothing of earth.
I decide for myself — in the shadow or light.

I listen to hearts, not to words, not to dreams.
That's the rhythm I follow, that's how I catch dreams.

I walk down into dawn without burning the bridges,
Because war isn't me — and it isn't you either.

And if someone should ask me, "What did you become?"
I'll answer, "The one who stepped out on the road."

After all of my love, after all of my words,
Only relic light remains — and the fragile foundations.