What Endures
by Dawg
Not all things crumble, not all things break, not every flame is meant to fade,
beneath the ruin, past the wreckage, something lingers, something stays.
It hums beneath the weight of time, it waits within the rising dawn,
it does not bend to fleeting sorrow, it does not kneel, it marches on.
Where dust has settled, hands rebuild, where silence grows, a voice will rise,
where night has pressed its heavy fingers, something answers, something tries.
For hope is not a fragile whisper, not a ghost that slips unseen,
it is the stubborn, beating thunder, it is the force behind the dream.
It moves through hands that lift the fallen, through eyes that dare to search for light,
through aching bones that keep on standing, through tired fists that clench and fight.
It does not care for gilded altars, does not bow to thrones of kings,
it thrives within the ones who struggle, in those who burn but do not sink.
And though the storm may rip through heavens, though fire turns the fields to ash,
though every road may twist and darken, though every bridge may strain and crash–
still, it remains, unshaken, waiting, in every breath, in every cry,
in every heart still set on rising, in every soul that won’t comply.
Not all things crumble, not all things break, not every flame is meant to die,
for even in the deepest wreckage, something lifts, something survives.