Revolutions In Time

Those revolutions in time,

shattered scars

marred in the promise.

And yet those echoes are heard



They ripple through centuries cracked and worn,

etching truth into bone and breath,

a testament to what endured— not untouched,

but unbroken.

In silence, names drift like smoke,

each one a vow, a wound, a light

never fully doused





Yet still the sky remembers how flame kissed the broken horizon,

how hope stood barefoot in ash— grieving,

yes, but rising.

We are made of those murmured vows,

of iron softened by sorrow,

of stars charted in trembling hands.

Time does not forgive,

but it does not forget us either.

We remain— fragments threaded in the breath of tomorrow.