When the Summer Burns

 

No tears remain for me to weep;

my eyes lie barren, cracked and dry.

In shadows where no rain is born,

even the skies forget to cry.

A silent ache, a hollow song,

the heart grows tired, cold and worn;

hope feels distant, stretched too long,

like fields that wait for seasons gone.

The endless summer, harsh and vast,

presses heavy on breath and bone;

veins that once with life ran fast

now shrink in silence, all alone.

The wandering birds of my soul,

once fearless, rising wild and free,

bury their heads in dust and soil,

lost to a restless memory.

My mind burns hot with every thought,

a pyre of sorrow, fierce and deep;

battles fought where none are fought,

a weary heart denied its sleep.

No gentle wind, no warm embrace,

only echoes from before-

forgotten light, a fading trace,

soft footsteps at a closing door.

Yet somewhere in this suffocating night

a fragile spark refuses doom;

a whispered promise, small but bright,

a seed awakening in gloom.

For even when the world feels dry,

when tears and rain no longer fall,

the dawn still waits beyond the sky-

a quiet light that answers all.

So hold the ember, faint but true,

through storms that shake and summers tire;

for after pain, the heart renews,

and rises slowly from the fire.