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