Lost in Dreams

Where reason loses its map, and the soul dances a waltz of shrapnel. A nameless fury blurs the face, the internal compass spins, lost, without north. The heart, a clenched fist of shadows, while the sand foundations yield to the muffled roar of an invisible storm.

But listen.

In the silence that follows the thunder, the seed is found. From the freshly broken earth, not the ruin, emerges a tenacious stalk, bathed in dew. The wings, once broken by the gale, find their curve, their flight. The dream was not lost, only transformed. And the light, the same that burned the boundaries, now traces a new, firm, and golden path.