When the Fire Folds to Silence

"Ash is the script the flame leaves behind."

The fire withdraws, its language bending low,

each crackling voice subsides to muted song.

The embers dim, yet in their fading glow

they mark the soil with truths that still belong.

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The trees bear witness, scarred by smoke and flame,

their roots still warmed by what the blaze has taught.

Each branch remembers, calling loss by name,

yet carries forward what the fire has wrought.

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So silence comes, but not as empty night;

it holds the hymn the ashes dare not hide.

For even endings kindle secret light,

a hidden spark the darkness cannot bide.

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What folds to shadow lingers in the breath,

a flame transformed, yet never bound by death.