Ash and Ember

Beneath a sky of fractured gold,

where time is dust and stories fold,

the wind still hums forgotten names,

etched in the earth like phantom flames.

—

A river bends where echoes fade,

its waters thick with dreams unmade,

it swallows years in silent sways,

and carves the stone in ghostly phrase.

—

A tower leans on brittle bone,

its shadow long, its marrow lone,

it whispers low of kings and thieves,

of love once lit in autumn leaves.

—

The stars once burned with holy fire,

now hang like embers, frail and tired,

a flicker caught in fate’s cold hands,

a spark that dies, yet still withstands.

—

For though the dark may claim the light,

and silence swallow sound and sight,

each ember holds a breath unspoken—

a vow unbent, a dream unbroken.