My heart is sad,
And my soul is resigned.

Another stage,
Once again.

A transcendence of the inner self,
Of the wounded child.

Who understood,
Who realized.

What he didn't have,
He won't have.

That place,
That little piece of land,
That is family.

I don't deny that one day it will bloom,
but today I allow myself to feel.

It's only the transcendence of detachment.
Of what never was.

A closed flower,
that one day may open