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17/10/2025

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12/09/2025

From the recollections of a soul once bound to promises of stars and whispers of fate…

In childhood’s dusk, when dreams were soft and near,
I asked, and lo! the answer did appear.
The toy I longed for rested in my hand,
As though the world obeyed a mute command.

From that small triumph, perilous seeds were sown,
A creed was formed: my longing makes its own.
And so I walked with faith in every sign,
Believing all the heavens would align.

At last he came, with eyes of burning flame,
A smile that set my heart and soul aflame.
I saw in him the future I had prayed,
The vows, the home, the children we had made.

But silence fell, and shadows closed the door,
His voice was lost; he spoke to me no more.
The cruelest stroke—a sudden, bitter wall,
A name erased, a number blocked, a fall.

I waited long; the hours turned to years,
Each day a cup of sorrow, brimming tears.
The omens whispered, “Soon, he shall return,”
Yet still I watched the empty candles burn.

Obsession grew; my nights were filled with dread,
I read the signs, the visions of the dead.
Each broken promise sharpened hope’s cruel knife,
And carved despair into the walls of life.

Now ruined halls surround my weary soul,
The clocks stand still, no chime to make me whole.
The mirrors mock with faces pale and worn,
A ghost of love, abandoned and forlorn.

Yet in the gloom a gentler voice does speak:
“Not all you crave was ever yours to seek.
His silence is a shield, though sharp it lies,
And mercy hides within what fate denies.”