\"a former dream\"
I too once marvelled at the shimmer of lift,
Mistaking ascension for a kind of gift.
But wings are not answers—they\'re questions in disguise,
And every rise comes with a price.
The sky is not cruel, just indifferent in hue,
It watched as I flew—and then withdrew.
Now, grounded not by grief, but grace,
I trace the burn marks time can’t erase.
We did listen… just not soon enough.
The truth, like altitude, always feels rough.
Yet in every fall, there’s a lesson to glean—
Even ashes carry a dream\'s former sheen.