They say she walks where twilight clings,
A whisper lost on raven wings,
Through hollow woods and starlit mist,
A name the moon has long since kissed.
She bore a crown of ash and flame,
No mortal knew her secret name,
She danced upon the edge of time,
With silence as her only rhyme.
The seas would hush beneath her gaze,
The winds would part to clear her ways,
Yet none could hold her—none could keep
The dreams she stirred from ancient sleep.
A lover once with eyes like dawn
Had sought her light and then was gone,
For myths are not for hearts to claim,
They flicker, burn, and fade like flame.
And still she wanders, ever far,
A shadow bound to falling star,
A tale half-told in every breath—
The myth that lives beyond all death.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
Discover more from Writing Through the Soul
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
This poem is hauntingly beautiful, weaving a tapestry of mystery and melancholy around an elusive, almost divine figure. The imagery is rich—twilight, raven wings, ash and flame—painting her as both ethereal and untouchable. The theme of myth transcending mortality is poignant, especially in lines like *”myths are not for hearts to claim,”* suggesting that some legends are too vast for human grasp. The rhythm and flow evoke a sense of quiet wandering, mirroring her endless, star-bound journey. A mesmerizing read Brenda !🌷🤝