THE WORDS I DIDN'T TELL YOU. INNER STATES SECTION. CHAPTER VI.
There are words that are not spoken. They remain suspended, sharp as invisible blades, alive and silent. They do not fade, they do not die: they inhabit the point where the voice breaks and the echo of a name continues to be heard, even when no one says it.
There are words that are never spoken.
They linger, sharp as invisible blades, alive and silent.
They do not fade, they do not die: they dwell in the place where the voice breaks, and the echo of a name keeps resounding, even when no one speaks it.
I didn't say them.
And not because I didn't want to.
Some words are not said,
They stay there, like blades,
lacerate the heart.
They remain still, mute,
between the held breath
And the end of a sentence that never began.
I have not forgotten them.
I buried them
lives, at an exact point where the voice is
breaks and something inside whispers: don't
now.
Yet they are still there.
Taciturn but present.
Like the echo of a name
That you don't stop feeling,
even though you never pronounce it.
THE WEARINESS OF THE 'SOUL. INNER STATES SECTION. CHAP. 5
There are weights that cannot be seen. The soul grows weary in the hubbub of the world, and frailty becomes a secret language that begs to be heard. It is not weakness, but a signal that it is time for rebirth.
There are weights that cannot be seen.
The soul grows weary in the din of the world.
Sometimes standing is already too much.
You feign strength while collapsing slowly.
There are silences that demand to be heard.
Any fatigue is an invisible boundary.
Yet it is precisely in the collapses that the truth is revealed.
We are not machines: we are flesh, breath, heart.
Frailty is not a fault,
Is the secret language of the soul
When she asks to be heard.
No need to resist to the bitter end.
It is necessary to learn to stop,
To let silence become care,
To recognize that fatigue is not weakness,
But the signal that it is time for rebirth.
Because after every invisible border
there is always a threshold.
And behind every threshold,
a new beginning.
BEYOND THE MASK. INNER STATES SECTION. CHAPTER IV.
Beyond the mask
Hidden emotions, unspoken fears, suspended desires.
Behind the veil, a silent gateway awaits.
Beyond the mask, a threshold of light opens.
Beyond the Mask
Hidden emotions, unspoken fears, suspended desires.
Behind the veil, a silent passage awaits.
Beyond the mask, a threshold of light opens.
Behind each face,
There is a labyrinth of silences.
Silences that are not voids, but corridors
straits,
Where thoughts walk on tiptoe
To not be heard.
There you hide the truths you don't have
Still found the courage to say.
Not always
what we see
Is what it looks like.
Eyes can tell stories that do not
They belong to the wearer.
A smile can be a fragile bridge
Thrown over an abyss of fears.
Hidden emotions,
Unspoken fears,
suspended desires.
They remain there, waiting for a crack in the
mask let the light through.
They barely move, like flames under the
ash,
Ready to burn if they only find oxygen.
Beyond the mask,
A threshold of light opens.
A light that doesn't ask you to be ready,
But to be true.
Going through it means accepting that every
shadow that inhabited you
Is not an enemy, but a part of you that
wanted to be seen.
And when you go through it, you find that the
mask doesn't fall to turn you off,
But to set you free.
THE UNSEEN TIME. INNER STATES SECTION. CHAPTER III.
Not everything is shown to the eyes.
There are inner seasons in which it seems that there is no
nothing happen,
But silently life works within you,
Shaping new forms.
You are not standing still: you are maturing the strength to
Go through what is to come.
You are not lost.
You are alone in a time that does not show itself,
But that he is preparing you.
Quietly.
There is a time that does not let you run,
That stops you, that forces you to breathe
plan.
It is the time of waiting that seems never-ending,
The one that keeps you on the edge,
Between what you were and what you still don't know you are.
It is not bewilderment:
Is the gestation of a new form of you.
An invisible place that trains you without
asking questions,
That you may, one day,
recognize the exact moment
In which the door will open before you.
NOT TO BE FOLLOWED. BUT TO BE FELT. SECTION: INNER STATES. CHAPTER II
A silent figure, walking between shadow and light.
She does not ask to be followed. Only to be heard.
It guards the fire of those who remain, even when
no one is looking.
I don't want to be followed.
I want to be heard.
I want someone to read twice.
Not that I put like without looking.
I don't need the applause.
A sincere look is enough for me.
I prefer silence
To distracted attention.
I STAY NOT BECAUSE I HOPE. BUT BECAUSE THEY ARE. SECTION INNER STATES. CHAP. 1
Remainder.
Not to be seen.
But to be true.
Remainder.
Not because I hope.
But because they are.
I do not seek attention.
Looking for consistency.
And when I know what I feel,
I don't need proof.
Just staying true to me is enough.
If one day you turn around,
You will find me there.
Not on hold.
But in truth.
SalValenti-Writer and creator of the language of thresholds
HAS ALREADY BEGUN. EVEN IF YOU DON'T REALIZE IT.
Everything starts with Everything starts with a threshold. Not with an explanation.an idea.
It is not a diary.
It is not poetry in the common sense.
It is a threshold.
A symbolic, emotional, sensory gateway.
A language that does not explain, but
crosses.
Each sentence is an invisible door.
Each reader decides whether to open it.
A story is not being told here.
A presence is evoked.
The one that vibrates inside you when you read.
The one you can't say, but you feel.
Welcome to the space where the mind does not
domina,
And the soul does not ask permission to speak.
If it resonates with you, the threshold is open.
"INVISIBLE SHELTERS" is a parent work.
It was born on TikTok, in short, powerful form,
symbolic.
Content published on TikTok is
Collected here in readable form.
To cross even with the eyes that
That comes from the voice.
The style is different from the rest of the site: more
fragmented, more direct, more raw.
But if you stop to listen, something inside
Of you might recognize it.
It is not a diary.
It is an opening language.