Echoes rise from the hollow stone,
chanting
where shadows kneel in silence.
The ruins breathe with ancient promises,
and every wall remembers
a love bound beyond flesh,
a flame that burns without mercy,
a vow etched in blood and ash.
Two souls torn, yet never apart
A sacred wound that will not close
Devotion beyond decay.
We walk as pilgrims in the dark,
carrying a love that cannot perish.
And, in the echoes of eternity, the vow endures.
© Diana Mistera
We walk on the ruins of yesterday,
beneath cathedrals shattered by silence.
Ghosts bleed from the broken glasses,
their faces carved in crimson rain.
Shadows kneel like fallen saints,
clutching the dust of forgotten vows.
The angels are hollow statues,
their marble wings cracked and stained.
The never forgotten love burns
like a candle drowning in its own wax.
It drips through the corridors of night,
leaving scars on the stones we tread
and the silence roars where pain screams
We walk with ghosts
through ruins veiled in funeral smoke.
And in the heart of this endless dark,
even hope is a wound that falls apart
and comfort is not
not even in the midst of the lost and found.
