THE LAST VOICE CALLING
My son…
you are my joy, my breath, my life.
I do not speak to you with closed books,
I do not speak to you with cold formulas.
I speak to you with cries of love,
with short, burning words
that long to carve themselves into your soul
like an inner tattoo that never fades.
Every phrase I give you is a drop of fire:
it burns within you, it pierces through you, it remains.
You cannot erase it,
for it is not ink:
it is my love writing your name.
I search for you in the nights that devour you,
I search for you in the rooms where you weep alone,
I search for you in the emptiness you confess to no one.
No abyss can stop me,
no sin can frighten me.
I want you.
I want you back.
I love you with a love that cannot die.
Son, listen to me:
the whole of heaven holds its breath,
the angels suspend their song,
the stars await your answer.
Because this is not religion,
this is not spectacle:
this is my final call.
It is my cry. It is my weeping.
I am knocking.
Not at the door of a temple,
not at the door of a church,
but at the bleeding door of your heart.
Open to me, my son… I beg you.
If you open,
I will heal your deepest wounds,
I will break your darkest chains,
I will dry your most secret tears.
I will restore the life you have lost,
the peace that was stolen from you,
the joy you thought was dead forever.
I will hold you close and never let you go again.
Do not delay. Do not resist. Do not close yourself.
Now is the hour. Now is the moment.
Come home…
I am waiting with arms wide open,
and I will never stop loving you,
even if you break my heart.
Your Father.