Far beyond the fallen towers,
where the dust forgets to rise,
I follow lines of quiet hours
drawn beneath the fractured sky.
The wind still holds the broken names,
etched in grey, but fading slow —
a fragile truth the silence claims,
the one we lost so long ago.

Beyond the fractured sky I walk,
through light that never learned to heal.
The echoes speak in quiet talk,
of things we broke,
and things still real.
And in the cold where shadows lie,
a warmer world begins to breathe —
not born again,
but made to be.

Steel and memory intertwine,
rusted frames of what we were.
Yet something hums beneath the spine,
a softer pulse, a muted stir.
No promise made, no future owed,
just steps that fall in honest time —
a path the fallen never showed,
a choice beneath the torn skyline.

Beyond the fractured sky I walk,
through light that never learned to heal.
The echoes speak in quiet talk,
of things we broke,
and things still real.
And in the cold where shadows lie,
a warmer world begins to breathe —
not born again,
but made to be.

Maybe the ruins never mend,
maybe the truth is simply this:
the world we knew has reached its end,
yet something waits
within the rift.

Beyond the fractured sky I walk,
with all I lost and all I keep.
The quiet dawn begins to talk,
in broken tones
that cut so deep.
But through the cracks a steady gleam,
a fragile light I dare to see —
not hope reborn,
but clarity.

Beyond the Fractured Sky

SoniqStrings