No use reaching out for your fading steps
Such fragile things, so easily destroyed
A flick of a quill, a splash of ink
Across a page of time.

You once were mine
But into the darkness, you sink
So quickly, lost in faulty memory's void
And nothing can speak the voice of my regrets

My words, precious words, so dear to me
More precious than any shining gold
Yet easier to erase than softest ash
Blown away into the winds.

Anguish burns under my skin
My soaring hope so quickly crashed
Inspiration's fire has dulled to dead coal.
A crippling frost into my heart has seeped.

How can I free my quill once more
To bring back what was lost?

How to replace so high a cost?
To teach my mind again to soar?


Penned by my hand on the 25th of Ero, in the year 586 AF.