"Ember‪"‬

"Ember"


Foggy Forest

The Awakening

Beneath the canopy of whispered dreams,

Where fog entwines with shadows deep,

A wandering poet stirs from sleep,

Lost in thought, in lands unseen.


First steps hesitant, unsure of ground,

Each leaf a secret, each breath a sigh,

Eyes searching for the morning sky,

But the mist guards all, no path to be found.


The trees, tall sentinels of the mind,

Keep their counsel, speak in rustling tones,

Branches bending like brittle bones,

As if they know what the poet seeks to find.


Whispers in the Wind

In this forest of muted hues,

Where light and darkness intertwine,

The poet hears a distant rhyme,

A voice carried through the dew.


"Who am I?" the poet asks,

But the fog returns no reply,

Only the echo of a sigh,

And the silent stares of faceless masks.


Yet the voice persists, a gentle hum,

From nowhere and everywhere it flows,

A melody that softly grows,

Guiding the poet, where they’ve come.


The First Encounter

Through the mist, a shadow appears,

A figure cloaked in shades of gray,

Neither night nor full of day,

A wanderer who knows no fear.


"Who are you?" the poet speaks,

But the shadow only smiles and fades,

Leaving behind the path of shades,

Where silence and secrets gently leak.


Lost and Found

The forest tightens its foggy grasp,

Wrapping the poet in doubt and dread,

Thoughts like tangled webs are spread,

Caught in the snare of the past.


But in the quiet, the poet finds,

A flicker of light, an ember’s spark,

Faint but steady, piercing the dark,

A guide for lost and wandering minds.


With renewed strength, the poet moves,

Through twisting paths of root and stone,

Seeking the place where they belong,

Where clarity and purpose fuse.


Desert of Echoes

The Wind’s Lament

The forest’s grip begins to wane,

As sands replace the wooded gloom,

A vast expanse, a silent tomb,

Where echoes sing of love and pain.


The poet’s footsteps leave no trace,

On shifting dunes of endless gold,

The wind, both burning and cold,

Carries whispers lost in space.


Voices float from distant years,

Fragments of joy, of grief untold,

Stories shared, now brittle and old,

Carried on a breeze of forgotten tears.


Mirage of Memories

The poet’s mind is a mirage,

Shimmering beneath the desert sun,

Images flicker, then are gone,

Eluding grasp, elusive charge.


A laugh, a touch, a fleeting face,

Moments lost in time’s embrace,

Each one a phantom, a haunting grace,

Leaving behind no single trace.


"Do you remember?" the desert asks,

But the poet can only bow their head,

For the memories are faint, half-dead,

Lost in the sands, slipping through cracks.