Draconian

A poem

I looked for you in the sunken city, among enormous waves, breathless, in a world that’s fading away. I sought the traces of your voice, and I hesitated to draw back the fabric of our precious silence. I gazed at the depth of the sky, and in the infinite journey of the small swallows.

You weren’t there either.

You didn’t even leave behind half a ray of hope — you didn’t care for the abyss that we, so leisurely, crossed. And I am still here, cradling the pieces of your sorrow, all of what you confided in me. I transformed them into pebbles and now they shine under the moonlight.

They, too, wait for you, on the shore of the Library. The soft sound of the waves can be heard, the galaxies are mirrored on the dark water.

And I am always here. My heart beating faster, holding on tight until my sigh echoes in the dark and joins Creation.

I am carrying the Black Flame that always burned for us. In the silence of the ruins I wait to hear your footsteps approaching. At least, our draconian fire is still strong.