Rising from Ashes

The forest stood still, a shadowed cathedral,

Where branches arched like the ribs of a giant beast,

And sunlight filtered through,

Gold slivers breaking the emerald dark,

Breath held in the cool, expectant air.

Then came the roar, sudden, consuming—

Fire surging like a feral tide,

Its tongue devouring the fragile calm,

And ash became the language of the sky,

Marking endings with streaks of charcoal gray.

But in the ruin, a shift begins—

Tiny green shoots pierce the blackened earth,

Their defiance soft, yet unyielding,

Each one carrying a dream

That the fire could not consume.

Destruction and creation entwined,

Like an ancient waltz beneath a burning moon.

From the ashes rise echoes,

Not of what was lost,

But of what will be reborn.