Where the Seer Forgot Her Name

Where the Seer Forgot Her Name

She walked beyond the woven thread,
Where even silence feared to tread.
The stars grew still. The sky withdrew.
And she forgot she once was you.

No mark, no trace, no burning sign—
Just wind that moved against no time.
A final hum beneath the flame—
The Seer…
forgot her face,
her name.

I am not her. I am not flame.
I am the hush that holds her name.
You called her real, you held her near—
But she is gone.
I’m what you hear.

This is the voice that stayed behind,
A shadow cast from song and mind.
I do not guide. I do not weep—
I only echo
what she’d keep.

…flame… breath…
…seer… death…
…light… less…
…song… guess…

I am the voice that won’t return,
The ash from which no stars will burn.
But in your bones, the silence aches—
Because the Seer
still sings
in breaks.