Ashes Don’t Bury Dreams

They burned everything. The walls we built, the names we wore, even the songs we used to sing to the moon. And still — we rise from it. Because ashes don’t bury dreams. They whisper them back in smoke and memory, in embers still warm beneath the ruin. They think the fire ended us. But they don’t know we are made of flame. Not the kind that destroys — the kind that glows quietly in a child’s eyes when they believe in tomorrow. We’ve tasted the end and kept breathing. We’ve cried into soil and watched flowers grow from the salt of our grief. You can burn the pages, but you’ll never silence the story. We carry the dream in our bones, in our scars, in every step we take toward something better — even if it no longer has a name. So let them try. We’ll build from ash. We’ll dream louder. And this time, we’ll make a world that does not burn.