Before you, I knelt to a shadowed shrine,
A worshipper lost in a dream divine.
With you, the ember turned to flame,
A passion untamed, a whispered name.
And after—only silence grew,
An empty well where echoes flew.
I pour my verses, line by line,
Each word a wish, each rhyme a sign.
O depths so deep, O sorrow wide,
Will longing ever fill your tide?
Or shall my whispers, soft and frail,
Fade like footsteps on a trail?
Someday, perhaps, the well will rise,
With echoes soft as midnight sighs.
Or maybe love, once fierce and bright,
Will seep into the endless night.
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