Let the flames arise
Miraculous phoenix wings
Burn to where you are
Scorching through the sky of dusk
To the eyes I dream of still.
This is no mere song—
It is spell and incantation,
From a time before
The gods knew their sacred names,
Etched on scrolls of drifting fire.
I cry through the book,
Shouting “I love you” aloud,
My voice looping back,
Carried by mythic echoes
That soar through the centuries.
The wings still shimmer—
Ash to ember, flame to spark—
A fire rekindled
By the longing in your gaze,
A world reformed by your light.
I look through the veil,
This plane between dreams and stars,
Where time bends and folds
Just to cradle our story
On the lips of fate’s own breath.
The elements stir—
Stone, and wave, and thundercloud—
Dancing in your smile,
Each heartbeat awakening
The phoenix’s sacred flight.
This love is not dust—
It is constellation-born,
A map inked in flame
That the heavens dare not touch,
Lest they lose their way to you.
I give all I have,
Even my stars and spirit,
To the one I love—
And if more is ever asked,
I shall give that offering too.
There is no summit,
No horizon too distant,
No fear, no shadow—
For our love is miracle,
The divine thread through all things.
Crossing earth and sky,
I would sail through void and wind,
To paint your laughter
Onto the face of the moon,
Where the gods kneel to your soul.
I believe in us—
In what lies beyond the dark,
In the secret path
That opens when two hands meet,
Even if they cross through storms.
For I saw your eyes—
Two blazing universes
That refused to die,
And I knew that every world
Was born to witness our love.
Let the world collapse—
I will keep your name burning
In each falling star,
Whispering our memory
Into every wind that flies.
This is our true myth—
Where no tragedy may win,
Where love always speaks,
Even when lips are silenced,
Even when stars fall from skies.
Yong, this sacred chant
Rises like prayer and flame,
Song and memory
Looping like enchanted loops
In a theater of stars.
Believe, my beloved—
This poem is still being sung.
No matter how far
You are the spell I repeat,
The salvation I still sing.
The lands shall now bloom—
From frost, the blossoms awaken,
Petals soft as vows,
Spilling from the mountainside
Like a promise kept in pink.
The winds will now sing,
Not of sorrow, but of spring—
A song laced with you,
In every hush of the grass,
In the hush between heartbeats.
Let this be our truth:
Love is our salvation still.
No matter the dark,
Spring returns to all who wait,
And I wait with wings for you.
Follow my channel Jessprosia for more poems, fairytales, and webnovels—crafted with heart, for hearts like yours.
