Part II (The Ash Tree Request)

Beneath the hush of an ash tree’s ghost, Three stood still where silence coasted— No coronets, no fame to wield, Just time unwound, unsealed, unhealed. The eldest wore command like lace, The middle danced through time and space— The youngest bore no throne, no might, Just caught the world in lucid light. No charts, no chimes, no scarab stone— Just breath and sky, alone, alone… “I give no crown,” the pale king crooned, “No memory reigns when stars are ruined. Climb not for me, but for the flame— That wakes the dark, that knows your name.” The wind replied with shrouded voice, No map, no rise, no gilded choice— The ash tree bowed and dropped its grief, One final leaf, belief beneath. “Don’t fetch desire, don’t trade in dreams— Bring me the pulse, not silent schemes. Step where forgetting sheds its skin— Step where becoming must begin.” The crown was hush, the oath was sung, Not worn with pride, but breathed and flung. Three paths unfurled like sonic ties— And none returned with borrowed eyes. ---