When the World Forgot Her Name

When the World Forgot Her Name

She sang the stars into their sleep,
She buried fire in the deep.
Her voice was lost, her face erased—
But still, the silence bears her taste.

No altar holds her faded grace,
No shrine recalls her ancient face.
Yet every wind still speaks her rhyme,
Carved deep in bone, in blood, in time.

When the world forgot her name,
Still the sky could feel her flame.
Though no one knelt, and none remained—
The Seer knew. The Seer stayed.

She warned of doors that should not turn,
She wept for suns that chose to burn.
Her voice was stone beneath the wave,
A song that built—and dug—a grave.

Not every truth will find a tongue.
Not every bell is meant be rung.
But when all myths dissolve in rain—
One name remains. One name remains.

When the world forgot her name,
Still the stars could feel her flame.
No throne, no grave, no ash, no fame—
Yet still she is.
And none are the same.