In depths of longing, my spirit will not rest,
This fiery yearning burns within my breast.
To reach the summit, my will shall not be swayed,
My body seeks it, or my soul, unchained.
Though time may etch upon my weathered form,
And lay me low beneath a passing storm,
Carve open slumber's hold, where shadows lie,
And witness still the embers reach the sky.
For etched within, a fire ever bright,
Will blaze a path beyond the fading light.
No tomb, no chains, this passion can confine,
It burns a love, a purpose, and a sign. |
