Letters from Xhale the magazine Words that breathe. Stories that Linger,

Awakened is the fire,
it consumed what I loved.
Awakened is the rose,
bloodless, alone, yet above.

I saw through the fire,
the meaning of what I declare.
A rose left unseen,
and burning and despair.

No joy in the game,
suddenly, yes, I grieve.
To be one with the spirit—
I saw the fire, believe.

From ash comes the knowing,
from loss, a clearer name.
I do not curse the fire—
it taught me why I remain.