🎵 Before We Were Enemies

[Verse I]

Before

we learned

their language—

we knew

each other"s

eyes.

Before

the names,

the borders,

the verdicts—

we simply

stood

beneath

the same

sky.

[Verse II]

No child

is born

with fear.

Someone

teaches

distance.

Someone

teaches

hate.

Love

never needed

translation.

[Pre-Chorus]

If

I can still

see

myself

inside

your sorrow—

perhaps

we are

not lost.

[Chorus]

Before

we were

right—

we were

human.

Before

we were

strong—

we were

small.

Maybe

the world

is waiting

for someone

to remember

that first

breath

belongs

to all.

[Verse III]

Truth

never asked

which side

was speaking.

It only

asked

whether

someone

was listening.

[Bridge]

Every wall

began

as fear.

Every bridge

began

as trust.

Perhaps

peace

has always

been

the quiet

courage

to see

yourself

inside

another soul.

[Final Chorus]

If

I cannot

love

everyone—

let me

at least

refuse

to hate.

If

I cannot

change

the world—

let me

remain

a place

where kindness

still

survives.

[Outro]

Tomorrow

will never

remember

who shouted

the loudest.

Only

who kept

the door

open.

Lalu Metev, July 7, 2026.

I begin in the threshold where a word is not yet born and silence still remembers its breath. I write to shape what insists on being carried forward — not as ornament, but as revealed truth. My practice moves like inner weather: shifts of memory, tenderness, and the questions that refuse to leave us. Genres are rooms of one house — poems, essays, fragments, genealogies, musical sketches — each a voice in a single resonant chord. Even silence has its essential place in that chord. I attend to the small gestures that disclose identity; to the secret bridges between private life and collective memory; to the quiet architecture of the spirit that needs no ceremony. My aim is language that opens rather than decorates — windows through which readers encounter their own inner sky. Form, conscience and intimacy guide me: introspection keeps me honest; conceptual shape grants the invisible weight; moral sensibility anchors each phrase. My professions — poet, publicist, jurist — lean together: law sharpens clarity, poetry humbles certainty, philosophy teaches listening to what is unsaid. If a single thread unites my work, it is this: to transmute vulnerability into luminous strength and to make silence a place of meaning. I am Lalu Metev — Bulgarian poet, essayist and jurist. I write to preserve what is delicate and essential in the human spirit, to follow traces of memory and dignity, and to find where the personal meets the universal. This is the path I walk; this is the voice I follow; this is the presence I offer.