The Boy in the Pathless Forest

(Official Lyrics, after correction. Thanks again to Liivika ) [Voice: Richard Setting: Pre-dawn, Paris — Jardin des Plantes arboretum before opening hours] (Verse 1 — entering the garden) The gates were closed, but the fog let me in, Lanterns dying along the iron rim. No birds, no traffic, only my breath— Paris holding still, like a held-back step. I’ve walked this green with the day on my side, But not like this, with the angles untied. The paths unstitched, the map gone thin— The world I know, and the one I’m in. (Verse 2 — the boy) Can’t remember the day came in, Trembling open eyes, I slide to give in. He stood where the branches made a door, Bare feet dark on the forest floor. He didn’t blink, didn’t seem to tire— Just watched me like an unlit fire. No older, no younger than the first time seen, Eyes carrying places I’ve only been. In the hush where the Garden keeps its light, Where a lost name trembles just out of sight. (Chorus 1 — his words) Switched from one path to the last storm’s end, I know the cost—fire lifts again. They come arrayed in a single movement. Not all who return… remember. Not every flame stays lit. Some bring back only the outline, Not the warmth of it. Not all who return… remember— If you do, hold on. Because the Garden misplaces the fragile, And the fragile is gone. (Verse 3 — walking beside him) We moved without moving, leaf against leaf, Every step quiet as borrowed belief. He hummed something small that I couldn’t place, But my breath fell into its missing phrase. He touched my wrist—there was nothing to see, Just a pressure, a thread running through me. “Do you know why you came?” he asked the dawn. “To look for the piece I left… and went on.” (Bridge — memory crack) A mirror. Water. A hand I knew. A promise said once and never said true. Was it Solène calling across that fall, Or the part of me that can’t recall? One will rise, he said without sound, On borrowed memory, on borrowed ground. And those who forget will take his side— Because forgetting is easy to hide. (Chorus 2 — quieter, closer) Not all who return… remember. Not every flame stays lit. Some bring back only the outline, Not the warmth of it. Not all who return… remember— If you do, hold on. What the Garden misplaces as fragile Is the first thing gone. (Outro — disappearance (fade into fog)) I turned a breath—and the boy was air. No footmark left in the gravel there. Only a shape on my skin in the dark, Like a thread making room for a spark. I don’t know where I am tonight. But something in me… does. And waits for light.