The future chants in veiled design, a riddle carved beyond the line. It speaks of fates we cannot see, yet binds the soul to what must be.
Two decades back, I watched the flame, of faces bright, untouched by shame. They seemed to hold the secret key, while I stood captive, asking me.
What is…
She moves like morning on the grass, A streak of grace you watch go past. The world around her seems to slow, As if it waits for her to show.
A little frame with eyes so wide, She walks with wonder at her side. She greets the day, she meets the air— Like every breeze…