The moonlit river whispered low,

A silver wound where secrets flow.

The ashes of a thousand years

Fell from the sky like frozen tears.

I knelt beside the ancient tide,

Where dreams were drowned and ghosts reside,

And felt the pull of something deep—

A lullaby that dragons keep.

River of ashes, carry me home,

Through waters wild where shadows roam.

If truth must drown to be reborn,

Let midnight heal what daylight scorned.

A wandering minstrel dressed in red

Sang soft of angels cold and dead.

He strummed a harp of broken strings,

And spoke of long-forgotten kings.

His voice was smoke, his eyes were flame,

He knew my heart, he knew my name.

He said, “The river knows your sins—

Step in, and let the tale begin.”

I touched the water, dark as wine,

And felt its memory merge with mine.

And in that flood of ancient pain,

I learned why moonlight fears the rain.