There was once a rhythm in this burning heart,
A vow that two lovers would dissolve,
Into the silent pulse of midnight’s hush.
Now, even the faintest echo
Of that amber night has frayed.
Time warps—
The sky, a cracked and callous vault,
The dewdrops, pearl-soft promises,
Now dust upon the wind.
Only the sting of unslept eyes remains.
Oh, the cruel jest—
How these hollow tears evaporate
Before they ever touch the battlefield.
(A funeral hymn for love’s mirage—even grief wears a mask.)