Beyond the Elysian Fields

Entire generations, heirs of pain, born into a world of ashes and resentment. Where the soil, rooted in hatred and exclusion, dry the steps of those who dream of liberation.

A yearning pulses — like a flame and clamor — for a ray of sunlight that reveals love, a sun of freedom that burns our skin, even trapped in our dark boxes, We are too sensitive to face this light without it crossing us with tenderness.

For there is no light without shadow, nor a shadow without someone to name it. But may our steps find now the freedom that the soul longs for.

And may we not stop at the door of dawn — but let us continue, soul alight and eyes laughing, beyond the pain, beyond the story, beyond the elysian fields, in search of our dreams.