Hidden seed of hope
In this wreckage a glow with ruin, where echoes of strangers warned that their ending had already been written and nothing endures, their fingers laced together, as though they were the last knot the city’s fierce current could not break. Though no word of tomorrow passed between them, the fierceness of that hold became a silent, singular vow, one that would not perish in a night heavy with oblivion’s shadows and silence's weight, holding hope as one holds breath.
