Cianalas

Illusions and visions
in between lines,
I waltz through a candlelit ballroom
with a man unfamiliar to time.

A city that I have never touched,

calls as if-
I could call it mine,
or perhaps my soul
has forever belonged there?

Fate must have woven
into the lace of my stoytelling.
For I ache to be there.
It hums-
unseen presence beside me.

Darker, deeper-
They were tortured and burned,
Guess who?
They called them 'Witches'.
When they didn't understand the divine.

And still-
My soul lingers,
to the unknown where no one visits,
Gatekeeper of places you fear.