Ashes Don’t Bury Dreams

They burned everything.
The walls we built,
the names we wore,
even the songs
we used to sing to the moon.

And still —
we rise from it.

Because ashes don’t bury dreams.
They whisper them back
in smoke and memory,
in embers still warm
beneath the ruin.

They think the fire ended us.
But they don’t know
we are made of flame.
Not the kind that destroys —
the kind that glows quietly
in a child’s eyes
when they believe in tomorrow.

We’ve tasted the end
and kept breathing.
We’ve cried into soil
and watched flowers grow
from the salt of our grief.

You can burn the pages,
but you’ll never silence the story.

We carry the dream
in our bones,
in our scars,
in every step we take
toward something better —
even if it no longer has a name.

So let them try.
We’ll build from ash.
We’ll dream louder.
And this time,
we’ll make a world
that does not burn.