Across a burning world, the hostages endure, their silent struggle the seed of hope for an eventual, thriving return to home.
Across the Burning Bridge
The ancient fires, they lick the blackened stone, Where doubt and terror, hand-in-hand, have grown.
A scar of cinder, a chasm deep and vast, The crumbling ruins of all that could not last.
The smoke is acrid, stinging every breath, A final offering to the god of death.
We crossed that span, not looking back to mourn, The twisted timber where all hope was torn.
Yet, on the far side, where the new dawn breaks, A vibrant Eden suddenly awakes.
No serpent whispers here of bitter strife, But emerald gardens bursting into life.
The air is sweet with jasmine and with thyme, Unburdened by the memory of time.
A diamond river, clear as grace, flows through, Reflecting skies eternally blue.
The fruits hang heavy, gold and deep in hue, A promise whispered, ancient, strong, and true.
No wall surrounds it, no forbidden gate, The seeds of future planted, sealed by fate.
For peace is the soil where such beauty thrives, Nourished by courage that uniquely survives.
We fled the flames to find this pure domain, And now, across the ash, the Garden prospers once again.
