In quiet woods, where gentle breezes play

In quiet woods, where gentle breezes play,
And time drifts softly like a flowing stream,
I ponder on the fleeting light of day,
And cherish whispers of a tender dream.

Once, at the crest of life’s own waterfall,
When all around me bloomed and shimmered bright,
I breathed the garden’s wind, so soft, so small—
Yet in its hush, I felt the edge of night.

A warning stirred beneath the lilac air:
A line ahead I wasn’t meant to dare.

Though seasons change and shadows stretch their hands,
Still in the heart, a steadfast ember glows.
For love, like ancient oaks on fertile lands,
Endures the storm, and in its stillness grows.

The peace I knew—it seemed beyond decay,
A quiet fortress standing bold and sure.
But beauty’s armor, though it shone by day,
Was made of tin, too fragile to endure.

And when the golden dusk gave way to black,
A hundred shadows came and broke my back.

One day, beneath the arch of twilight skies,
A wanderer may seek what once was mine—
And in that moment, when the spirit flies,
The bonds of earth shall fade, and stars align.

Then I shall rise, as nature’s breath returns,
In every leaf, in every songbird’s call.
For where the light of deep affection burns,
There blooms a truth that conquers even fall.

But warning stirs beneath the lilac air:
A line behind I wasn’t meant to dare.

And through the smoke of war I did not face,
Where thoughts grow thin and truth slips through the hand,
The echoes—love, and anger, time, and space—
Dissolve. And rising gets replaced again

By painful fall - and both like waves collapse
Around the line I was not meant to pass.