I once held hope, a tender flame,
Its warmth a shield against the rain.
But now the days grow long and cold,
And all that’s bright seems dull and old.

Each morning rise, with tired eyes,
To face a sky of endless grays.
The dreams I chased slip through my hands,
Like grains of time, like fading sands.

I try to fight, to stand, to cope,
But in the silence, I lose hope.
The stars that once would guide my way
Now blur into the night, astray.

And still I walk, though shadows creep,
Through haunted paths, through restless sleep.
The world moves on, but I stand still,
A whisper lost upon a hill.

But in this quiet, cold, and slow,
I’ll search for seeds that still might grow.
For though the flame is faint and low,
Perhaps the light returns in time to glow.