Ashes of a Forgotten Dawn
I walked through corridors
that had no doors,
where the walls whispered my old names
and the floor remembered my weight.
A clock melted in my palm;
its hands pointed toward
things I could not reach,
and I let them slip
like sand through broken fingers.
The air tasted of charcoal and regret,
and I inhaled it slowly,
learning the language of loss
without ever speaking a word.
I pressed my ear to a shadow;
it hummed lullabies of stars
that had burned out before
I knew how to look up.
A river braided my reflection,
and I followed its strands
until the moon traced my back
with silver fingertips.
Tonight, I will unravel my shadow.
Tomorrow, I will stand
in the hollow of my own echoes.
