Needless Things: Deathly Salvation

In the quiet where the echoes sleep, Beyond the wounds the soul can keep, A hollow hand extends through flame, And whispers softly my forgotten name.

The cross of grief turns to a key, Unlocking what was meant to be, Through pain’s abyss, through sorrow’s veil, I rode the storm, bone-white and frail.

Salvation came not robed in light, But cloaked in ruin, born of night, It kissed my scars and blessed my fear, Saying, “You had to die to appear.”

Every loss, a sacred seed, Every tear, the blood of need, In death’s embrace I found release, A shattered soul reborn to peace.

Now silence hums where screams once wept, The reaper guards the vow I kept, For deathly salvation, dark yet pure, Taught me that love — and pain — endure. NNN