FOR THE ABANDONED KINGDOM | BOOK 2

PART III

The sun was sinking down
when the ships sank
beneath the tidal waves.
Darkness engorged the coastline
as the widows' cries
echoed louder than
the ongoing thunderstorm.
But I, through the unending chaos
and the eternities dividing us,
heard your whimpers.

Lock out the noise.
Listen, I'm coming for you.

Push up from the floor.
Look, I came for you.

Take my hand.
It's time to jump off
the storm cloud.
Trust me for once.
We'll land on sacred ground.

Can you feel it?
The hope, the joy,
the essence of life
that blooms into
your tarnished soul
as we move closer
to the mountains?
Let the crisp air
become your lighthouse.
Let the grass beneath
your bleeding feet
become your lifeline.

We're going home.
Can you feel it?
We're going home.
Can you hear it?
We're going home.

And after everything,
I hope you know that I never left.
I hope you know that I was always hidden in the cypresses;
hidden in your heart.

Everything is a miracle,
haven't you noticed?
The grass, the sky,
your heart, my soul,
the thrill you experience with
that star-crossed lover of yours.
We've wasted enough of our eternities trying to make sense of it all.
Desperately trying to find
the meaning is meaningless,
haven't you figured that out after all?

I think it's time to let go.
It's time to let our scars
get filled with hope.
Hope for the better.
Hope for the new.
Hope for the unknown to be good.
Hope for a hand to hold
when it gets dark.
Hope for our hearts
to remain open
even when they pin us
to the ground.

We still are who we were
before they attempted
to murder our spirits.
The hands of the rogues
never managed to reach our core.
Our scars didn't take away our truth.
And our truth was crafted
in the mountains.
So to the mountains we shall return.
For the blood to turn to gold.
For our souls to fiercely roam.

My name is still carved in stone,
next to yours,
as it will always be.
I never left.
How could I?
I'll never leave.
I was hidden in the cypresses;
hidden in your heart.

We'll follow the anthem
of evergreen freedom,
the one the woodland fairies
whisper to their mortal lovers and
make them believe in magic.
All at once,
magic is love,
magic is real.
We'll follow the smell
of amaranthine hope,
the one showing to the weary
their way back home.
In case the cruel ones
took the memory away from you,
I want you to know
that it smells of fresh grass
and summer rain.

I can hear the mountains screaming,
"All the wrongs lead back home."

It's true.
Our past mistakes
have finally aligned,
creating the tree-lined path
we're now walking on.
Let it take us back to where it all started.

When the bold ones
become the lost ones,
the end of the road
will show them the way back home.
When the strong ones
become the crying ones,
the brick wall at the dead-end street
will fall down to reveal the dawn.

When the road ends,
there is still a remote path
leading home.
When the world ends,
there is still a flicker of hope,
urging us to pack
our broken pieces and
walk out of the city of bones.

I can hear the river whispering,
"It's the age of redemption.
It's the age of salvation."

There's no hurry.
There's no rush.
All the wrongs lead back home.
Turned out our choices
weren't so wrong after all.

🔱🔱