a little flame,
so brave
and bright,
danced with hope —
a spark of light.
she dreamed of shining,
bold and true —
but a whisper told her
not to.
you are too much,
the voices came,
and slowly dimmed
her vibrant flame.
she shrank,
withdrew —
a shadowed spark,
her brilliance
swallowed by the dark.
she wandered paths
of tangled threads,
chasing echoes
in her head.
yet
a spark remained,
though faint
and shy —
a flicker
reaching toward the sky.
you are enough,
a whisper rose,
soft as rain,
as sunlight glows.
her ember stirred,
the silence broke,
her soul re-lit
with every stroke.
and water flowed —
a gentle grace,
washing away
the pain,
the ache.
she danced and wept,
a fluid form,
weathering life’s
persistent storm.
the ember knew
the torchbearer’s path —
revealing truth,
and grace
is here to last.
no longer searching
for borrowed light,
she was the flame …
burning
bright.
© 2025 Corvalya
Reflection
Some embers sleep for years — hidden under ash, tucked behind, mistaken for smoke.
But the path of the torchbearer is quiet rebellion: not to shine for others, but to awaken the flame within.
This poem is not about rising with noise. It is about remembering what was never lost.
Truth and grace flow not as opposites, but as allies — when fire meets water, something sacred is revealed.
Let your ember speak.
I invite you to read the poem again.