Vestige of Warmth
Morning breaks, a hollow hymn,
the glass reflects—yet nothing dim.
A visage cracks beneath my hands,
fractured lines like severed strands.
The weight of love, a phantom call,
drifting echoes down the hall.
Once, in hands both soft and true,
a fleeting warmth, a touch I knew.
Vaulted silence, sealed away,
whispers weave where shadows stay.
In dreams she walks, but never stays,
fades with dawn’s unyielding haze.
The world is wide, yet void and tight,
a voice unheard, a dimming light.
A burden, pest, a fleeting breath,
each step a waltz with quiet death.
Yet tell me, stars that burn and die,
does absence shape the painted sky?
Is beauty born from vacant space,
or in the ghost of love’s embrace?
Morning breaks, a hollow hymn,
the glass reflects—yet nothing dim.
A visage cracks beneath my hands,
fractured lines like severed strands.
The weight of love, a phantom call,
drifting echoes down the hall.
Once, in hands both soft and true,
a fleeting warmth, a touch I knew.
Vaulted silence, sealed away,
whispers weave where shadows stay.
In dreams she walks, but never stays,
fades with dawn’s unyielding haze.
The world is wide, yet void and tight,
a voice unheard, a dimming light.
A burden, pest, a fleeting breath,
each step a waltz with quiet death.
Yet tell me, stars that burn and die,
does absence shape the painted sky?
Is beauty born from vacant space,
or in the ghost of love’s embrace?
Bevorzugen Sie ein Leben, das von ständigem Leiden und dem Ende von Alter und Gebrechlichkeit geprägt ist? Oder nutzen Sie Ihre Kräfte lieber für ein nachhaltiges Erbe, das seit Generationen funktioniert?