sexta-feira, 13 de fevereiro de 2026

Wings of Glass

 


                               Wings of Glass

I wander through the forest with wings of glass, fragile as promises cast to the wind.
The breeze, soft as an ancient whisper, brushes my face and intoxicates me with the alchemy of wild fragrances.
All around me is a sea of vibrant green, a symphony of untouched beauty — yet silence reigns, a silence heavy as an omen.

Nature, so alive, seems to hold its breath.
Something is not right.

I am called by a soundless voice, a spell that binds itself to my soul.
I stumble through the undergrowth and, in an instant, rise into the sky with my glass wings, shimmering like dreams yet to be fulfilled.

But over a clearing, an invisible strike — like a flaming arrow — tears through the air and hits me.
The wings shatter into a thousand laments, and I fall, free‑falling into a pit where darkness is queen.

At the bottom, the ground is cold, without light.
The air is foul, stagnant, as if death itself whispered at my ear.
Nausea rises; my body weakens; the light above feels like a distant mirage.

A thousand thoughts assault me — I want to run, flee, escape this haunted, lifeless place.
Illusion, treacherous, makes me believe I am moving.
But I am still — a prisoner of the earth.
Exhausted, I scream in silence: I want to live.
My numbed body no longer serves me.
I must abandon it if I wish to survive.

I close my eyes, and my soul, light as mist, ascends.
I break through the heavens and leave behind the abyss of pain.
The moon, witness to my rebirth, watches in silence.
My crystal wings, once broken, now burn with crimson fire — I rise from the shadows at an enigmatic twilight.

I flee the clearing as one flees a nightmare.

What comes next?
Perhaps dawn will bring answers, perhaps it will unravel the mystery now dwelling within me.

I am made of endless stories, of emotions dancing with disappointments like ghosts in a forgotten castle.
But there is nothing to fear.
Courage is needed to keep walking, to wait — with a vigilant heart — for whatever destiny holds.
We are travelers, not masters of the path.

I entered the forest.
I left the forest.

Where do I go now?
It is a riddle yet unsolved.

But everything — everything — will reveal itself
at dawn.

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