We walk where shadows gather, Where names are never spoken. The ground remembers ancient wounds, And seals long left unbroken. We listen for the whisper That crawls beneath the world. Truth is sharp and cuts the hand When secrets are unfurled. Not all chains are meant to break, Not all doors to open wide. Some things live because we stand And never step aside. The spirits watch our silence, They test our will and sight. We bind what should not wander free Through ritual and rite. Knowledge is a heavy stone Carried bone to bone. We bear it so the world may stand, And others stay unknown. No praise waits at the ending path, No songs of victory. Only watchful eyes in endless dark And guarded memory. We remain. We remember. We endure the unseen flame.
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