Agron Shele
Agron Shele was born in October 7th, 1972, in the Village of Leskaj, city of Permet. Is the author of the following literary works: “The Steps of Clara” (Novel), “Beyond a grey curtain” (Novel), “Wrong Image” (Novel) , “Innocent Passage” (Poetry) and “Ese-I ” . Mr. Shele is also the coordinator of International Anthologies: “Open Lane- 1,” “Pegasiada and Open Lane- 2,” is a member of the Albanian Association of Writers, member of the World Writers Association, in Ohio, United States, and the coordinator of the International Poetical Galaxy “Atunis”. He is published in many newspapers, national and international magazines, as well as published in many global anthologies: Almanac 2008, World Poetry Yearbook 2009, 2013, The Second Genesis -2013, etc. Currently Resides in Belgium and continues to dedicate his time and efforts in publishing literary works with universal values. Has been an active member of the civil society in Albania while receiving training from USAID, UNDP, UNICEF. Is the chairman of the Societies “Environment and Community” and “Children and youngsters”. Is the recipient of various literary prices in Albania.
White Light
A white light,
Wakened in the waters of my soul,
Over the wings of a flying bird
Just as once before...
A mirror of a reborn life in turmoil
Just as today...
Kidnapped from warm verses in rebellion.
White hope,
A voice of life colors without borders
An open canvas of colors brighten
Beautiful
Just as dreams of nights of no return
Thunderstorm,
Of a burning star, steaming hot.
White word,
Raised in the high benches of thoughts
Carved in ancient mythology of trust
Poured,
In fiery horizons of the west.
White life,
a broken mirror of crossed fates
a deep sea of kidnapped sorrows
just as snow...
Dissolved in the first rays of craziness
Just as a leaf...
Lost in a freezing autumn universe.
My muse!
My muse!
What beauty do you hide inside sunsets?
What dreams resurfaced beyond freedom?
What song is playing through an abysmal terrain?
What rays is it demanding in the darkening evenings?
My muse!
Remained on top of a silent abyss,
I am attacking silence through a dissolved eternity.
everywhere I see an elderly dusk
appears on any corner a revitalised sunrise.
My muse!
Years and grey hair just like giant rocks,
Are whitened in hidden clouds.
Carved soul from a dried pen,
Is shaken, torn apart, away in the unknown.
My muse!
Perhaps you arrived as punishment within drunkenness
Or as a shivering game of dizziness?
I breathe girl’s eyes hidden in you
And tears returned into a topaz.
My muse!
As a blessed breath pressing in forgiveness,
Since we awoke as poets in a sun rise.
Peaceful Sun sets brewing life
Days are going faster with a fast track...
My dreams are there
My dreams are there,
Just like thousands of icebergs in an endless ocean.
Mind penetrates all the way flying,
In other skies, trips “endless”.
My dreams are there,
In spring skies, with many stars
Pieces of feelings crumble a soul
And turned magic into a cloth.
My dreams are there,
Just like light whitening, in sun rise.
With longing of autumn in a chest
And ...points of rain – sorrow.
My dreams are there
Over rainbow arches, colors of thoughts;
A white day, hope and happiness,
Trenches are twisted, poetry rebellion.
My dreams are there
Formatted in a great feeling...
A view thrown in a dark sky
Breathing margins – a statue shape.
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