{"id":5350,"date":"2025-07-21T21:39:52","date_gmt":"2025-07-21T21:39:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/afflatuscreations.com\/?page_id=5350"},"modified":"2025-07-21T21:40:37","modified_gmt":"2025-07-21T21:40:37","slug":"the-language-of-water","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/afflatuscreations.com\/index.php\/the-language-of-water\/","title":{"rendered":"THE LANGUAGE OF WATER"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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POEMS<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

By: Acad. Prof. Jeton Kelmendi PhD,<\/p>\n

Kosovo-Belgium<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

THE LANGUAGE OF WATER<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Water speaks, without words,<\/p>\n

A language as ancient as God Himself,<\/p>\n

An echo hidden in the depths,<\/p>\n

A rhythm that follows the step of creation.<\/p>\n

In every sigh of it,<\/p>\n

There is the sign of an endless call,<\/p>\n

Someone, somewhere, has heard,<\/p>\n

In the deep sands of the centuries,<\/p>\n

When God wiped the clay and created the waves.<\/p>\n

Water is everywhere, without signs,<\/p>\n

In every crossing, every sigh, every wave,<\/p>\n

In the whispers of the mountains,<\/p>\n

In the stillness of lakes that hold mystery,<\/p>\n

And rivers that flow like open paths,<\/p>\n

And springs that pour water like a forgotten tongue.<\/p>\n

Yet man has forgotten how to listen,<\/p>\n

He sees water as a treasure to use,<\/p>\n

But does he understand that every drop,<\/p>\n

Carries the knowledge of heaven and earth?<\/p>\n

In some places, it is missing,<\/p>\n

Missing a simple right\u2014<\/p>\n

For water, for life, for the word of God,<\/p>\n

And the murmurs of despair are felt.<\/p>\n

The missing water becomes a call,<\/p>\n

A sign that destroys,<\/p>\n

Like a storm that awakens the bed of nature,<\/p>\n

In questions that have no answers.<\/p>\n

But when water bursts forth, when it is bitter,<\/p>\n

It flows and destroys everything it finds in its path,<\/p>\n

Like a force that overturns and leaves behind ruin,<\/p>\n

A flood of troubled hearts,<\/p>\n

An anger that springs from the silent depths,<\/p>\n

And we feel it, for water speaks without words.<\/p>\n

In the end, there is a question \u2013<\/p>\n

Can we understand, in this fragmented life of ours,<\/p>\n

The language of water, the language of creation,<\/p>\n

That reminds us that without it,<\/p>\n

Nothing can be whole?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Tirana, April 10, 2025<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

DREAMS HAVE NO BIOGRAPHY<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Dreams have no biography,<\/p>\n

They don\u2019t say where they were born,<\/p>\n

Not here, nor in that distant place,<\/p>\n

They don\u2019t carry words for schools,<\/p>\n

For work, for teachers<\/p>\n

Who teach the paths of life.<\/p>\n

Dreams are the only ones<\/p>\n

That move without any documents,<\/p>\n

Like shadows that don\u2019t know how to ask permission<\/p>\n

From the light that sees them,<\/p>\n

Why they are here,<\/p>\n

Or why they are there.<\/p>\n

In the frozen moment, they catch us,<\/p>\n

In a world without rules,<\/p>\n

Without borders, without norms,<\/p>\n

Without any sign to show<\/p>\n

Where beginnings are and where endings are.<\/p>\n

They lay before our eyes<\/p>\n

The impossible things,<\/p>\n

Telling us that,<\/p>\n

If we dare, we can touch them,<\/p>\n

But when we discover that they are there,<\/p>\n

Inexplicable, immense,<\/p>\n

They vanish in silence,<\/p>\n

Like hopes that die before<\/p>\n

They are born.<\/p>\n

Dreams, with their power,<\/p>\n

Do not ask us to know<\/p>\n

Where they were formed,<\/p>\n

Who let them breathe<\/p>\n

In the air of the mind.<\/p>\n

They give us freedom<\/p>\n

And we, often blinded<\/p>\n

By their undiscovered signs,<\/p>\n

Believe in them,<\/p>\n

Like a child who believes<\/p>\n

In an unknown game.<\/p>\n

But do they believe in us?<\/p>\n

Do they feel<\/p>\n

Our insecurities?<\/p>\n

Do they follow our paths,<\/p>\n

Or, like wild desires,<\/p>\n

Fly over us,<\/p>\n

And watch how we create them<\/p>\n

With the steps of our dreams?<\/p>\n

We live searching for what<\/p>\n

We cannot grasp,<\/p>\n

But we move forward,<\/p>\n

Seeking and losing<\/p>\n

Like birds chasing a horizon<\/p>\n

That we never reach.<\/p>\n

In such a time,<\/p>\n

With all we do and seek,<\/p>\n

Dreams remain untouchable,<\/p>\n

Like an explosion that has no time<\/p>\n

To explain to us.<\/p>\n

They are, simply,<\/p>\n

The freedom that cannot be touched,<\/p>\n

Inexpressible,<\/p>\n

Endless and all<\/p>\n

In that single moment,<\/p>\n

When, perhaps,<\/p>\n

We are nothing more<\/p>\n

Than a thought<\/p>\n

That dies<\/p>\n

In the eternal space<\/p>\n

Of the night.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

WHERE THE TRUTH LIVES<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Where does the truth live today\u2026<\/p>\n

If it still lives?<\/p>\n

Or is it simply in silent escape,<\/p>\n

In some forgotten corner of a book,<\/p>\n

Or in a heart that hasn\u2019t yet sold itself?<\/p>\n

I searched for it in the news \u2013<\/p>\n

I found it twisted like a delicate thread,<\/p>\n

Tangled with interests,<\/p>\n

Dressed in titles that do not know its face.<\/p>\n

I searched for it in speeches \u2013<\/p>\n

There it died on the lips,<\/p>\n

Suffocated by applause for itself,<\/p>\n

Not for justice and principles.<\/p>\n

I searched for it on the streets, in cafes,<\/p>\n

In simple words \u2013<\/p>\n

But it hid,<\/p>\n

Afraid it might be used as a weapon<\/p>\n

Against itself.<\/p>\n

And I asked myself:<\/p>\n

Is there a place<\/p>\n

Where truth lives well, as it should?<\/p>\n

Where it stays without distortion?<\/p>\n

Without being forced to change its name?<\/p>\n

They told me:<\/p>\n

Perhaps in some distant village,<\/p>\n

Where the elderly still measure time with honesty<\/p>\n

And plant words like wheat for tomorrow\u2019s bread.<\/p>\n

Or in the eyes of a child,<\/p>\n

Who hasn\u2019t yet learned to hide,<\/p>\n

Who says everything as it is \u2013<\/p>\n

Without fear, without the need to appear otherwise.<\/p>\n

But today, here where I live,<\/p>\n

It \u2013 the truth \u2013 is like a wingless bird:<\/p>\n

Still breathing, but unable to fly.<\/p>\n

We keep it in a cage<\/p>\n

And ask it to sing in foreign tongues.<\/p>\n

Is there anyone left who feels its absence,<\/p>\n

Not as political words,<\/p>\n

But as a loss of breath, sincerity?<\/p>\n

Is there anyone left who builds it a shelter,<\/p>\n

Without asking for it to be called their own?<\/p>\n

If you see it somewhere,<\/p>\n

The truth, unchanged,<\/p>\n

Tell me.<\/p>\n

Give me a message \u2013<\/p>\n

In a soft voice,<\/p>\n

But pure.<\/p>\n

For I don\u2019t seek to become great with it,<\/p>\n

I only want to have it near.<\/p>\n

To have it as a word that doesn\u2019t tremble,<\/p>\n

As a light that doesn\u2019t deceive me,<\/p>\n

As a path that leads<\/p>\n

To myself.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

April 9, 2025, Gjirokast\u00ebr, Albania<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE POWER OF CLICKS<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Clicking is the new currency of the world,<\/p>\n

The one that measures the value of a person, not by the mind,<\/p>\n

Nor by the soul,<\/p>\n

But by how many times they have been seen,<\/p>\n

Shared, commented on.<\/p>\n

Not necessarily how many times they have been read.<\/p>\n

In this time, where a person\u2019s worth is as big as their screen,<\/p>\n

And the wise word dies in silence,<\/p>\n

Those who shout survive more,<\/p>\n

Not those who understand.<\/p>\n

Truth gets lost in heavy traffic,<\/p>\n

Because lies are beautifully dressed,<\/p>\n

They are more \u201cclickable,\u201d easier to chew,<\/p>\n

Like a candy that doesn\u2019t nourish you,<\/p>\n

But teaches you to crave it again.<\/p>\n

The soul has become an algorithm,<\/p>\n

Love \u2013 a notification,<\/p>\n

Suffering \u2013 content for consumption,<\/p>\n

To be shared, not to be lived.<\/p>\n

And the person…<\/p>\n

The person stays silent,<\/p>\n

Fearing that silence doesn\u2019t click.<\/p>\n

They think of themselves not by what they are,<\/p>\n

But by what they seem,<\/p>\n

And they seem only if they appear with noise.<\/p>\n

In this time \u2013<\/p>\n

Where news is born for clicks,<\/p>\n

And where pain is sold more expensively than peace,<\/p>\n

While every feeling is valuable only if liked,<\/p>\n

Life has turned into a screen.<\/p>\n

And when no one clicks,<\/p>\n

You no longer feel alive.<\/p>\n

But what does it matter to be visible to the world,<\/p>\n

When you are invisible to yourself?<\/p>\n

Perhaps no one cares anymore.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Vjena, March 2025<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

BRIDGE THAT CONNECTS TWO SHORES \u2013 MY NAME AND YOUR VOICE<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

You are the word that calls me from beyond,<\/p>\n

I \u2013 the step that crosses silence.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Between us lies an unwritten river,<\/p>\n

Turbid water from unsettled memories.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

But I am the bridge \u2013 built from light,<\/p>\n

From my name and your voice.<\/p>\n

If you speak to me, I will be your shore,<\/p>\n

If I am silent, I will be the wind that seeks you.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Do not pass me without touching,<\/p>\n

For the bridge lives only when it is crossed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

POEMS \u00a0 By: Acad. Prof. Jeton Kelmendi PhD, Kosovo-Belgium \u00a0 \u00a0 THE LANGUAGE OF WATER \u00a0 Water speaks, without words, A language as ancient as God Himself, An echo hidden in the depths, A rhythm that follows the step of creation. In every sigh of it, There is the sign of an endless call, Someone, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"elementor_header_footer","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-5350","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nTHE LANGUAGE OF WATER - Afflatus Creations<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Water speaks, without words, A language as ancient as God Himself, An echo hidden in the depths, A rhythm that follows the step of creation.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/afflatuscreations.com\/index.php\/the-language-of-water\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"THE LANGUAGE OF WATER - Afflatus Creations\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Water speaks, without words, A language as ancient as God Himself, An echo hidden in the depths, A rhythm that follows the step of creation.\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/afflatuscreations.com\/index.php\/the-language-of-water\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Afflatus Creations\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2025-07-21T21:40:37+00:00\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"6 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/afflatuscreations.com\/index.php\/the-language-of-water\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/afflatuscreations.com\/index.php\/the-language-of-water\/\",\"name\":\"THE LANGUAGE OF WATER - 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