Dreams Among the Ruins
Among the ruins of the old, where shadows fold,
In the wreckage of stone and steel, dreams take hold,
Amidst the shattered and worn, a new spirit is born,
With every ghostly whisper, your spirit is bold.
The moon’s cold gaze on the wreckage does leer,
As the past in decay whispers its fear,
Yet through the crumbling stone, your heart finds a tone,
In the ashes and dust, a new path appears.
Winds howl through the wrecks, they wail and they shout,
Echoes of the past in a mournful route,
Your laughter rings clear, piercing the drear,
In the decay’s grim dance, your dreams twist about.
Broken columns stand as the night’s grim sentinels,
Guarding the secrets and tales of the fallen’s spells,
Yet among their ruin, your visions are true,
With each broken arch, a fresh vision wells.
Ruins are stages where old ghosts play,
Yet your dreams burn fierce in their frayed array,
You walk through the mire, eyes set on the fire,
Transforming the old with each step you slay.
Where gravestones lie flat and the tombs are all cold,
You tread with a smile, fearless and bold,
Turning the old to new, with a touch so true,
In the dust of the past, your story unfolds.
In the silence of night, where the past’s echoes dwell,
Your spirit ignites where the old shadows fell,
Amidst all the ruin, your dreams are a boon,
Dancing in defiance, to a brand-new tune.