Hollow Branches - Roots of The Idealist

Inward I wander, a labyrinth of flame, A forest of visions I cannot tame. Roots coil tight around a tender heart, Each branch a prayer, each thorn a scar. I am the dreamer of ruin and bloom, Cradling the void in a lover’s womb. The fire within is both curse and breath, A hymn of creation, a dirge for death. I burn with ideals the world has betrayed, Bleeding compassion through shadows frayed. A gentle soul clad in iron despair, I whisper of love no darkness can tear. My rage is a river, my sorrow a sea, Yet kindness clings like ivy to me. I am the ghost of hope unspoken, A shrine of truth in temples broken. Soft hands that cradle, fists that defy, A martyr of meaning, I cannot lie. Through bone and soil, my spirit crawls, Carving its oath in the marrow of walls. I burn with ideals the world has betrayed, Bleeding compassion through shadows frayed. A gentle soul clad in iron despair, I whisper of love no darkness can tear. Vision made weapon, Dream made blade, The heart of a healer, In chaos arrayed, Pierce me with silence, I’ll answer with fire, The gentle spirit, Wrapped in briar. I burn with ideals the world has betrayed, Bleeding compassion through shadows frayed. A gentle soul clad in iron despair, I whisper of love no darkness can tear. Ashes fall, but the flame remains, Soft in the soil, fierce in the veins. The dreamer’s blood stains the stone, Through rot and through shadow, I sow what I see, Roots of the idealist, carved into eternity.