Veils of Uncertainty

A silver bird departs, the sky serene, Yet morning’s promise shatters in a breath; Ash falls where laughter and bright hopes had been, A city mourns the sudden hand of death. In distant hills, a traveler’s path grows cold, A journey meant for dreams, now left undone; The news arrives—too heavy to be told— A vanished step, a race that’s never run. Where rivers wind through valleys deep with pine, And pilgrims seek the solace of the land, A shadow falls, intentions intertwine With violence wrought by an unseen hand. Yet through these veils, uncertain as the night, We hold each fragile day, and seek the light.