A Pyre of Thought

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I was the one who waited long—
a sun veiled beneath a rainbow's song.
My mind, a fractured, silent space,
where sorrow etched itself on my face.
I burned in fire, unknown, unkind,
lost to myself, no self to find.
Life bruised by blooms of quiet pain
became a poem wrapped in rain.
My words, unsaid, sank in my throat,
while tears reversed to sights I note.
The Dream world I cast aside
returned to build where I had died—
a pyre of thought, of sound, of flame,
where chaos hummed and called my name.
I wandered through each shadowed task,
hiding the truth I dared not ask.
Then slowly, from the edge of night,
a curtain shifted, dim to light.
Within the blaze of thought, once bleak,
two words emerged, both soft and sleek:
“leave it.” And in that quiet breath,
I rose beyond the reach of death.
From fire, from silence, I broke free—
salvation’s gift: the will to be.


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