Storyteller, Pt. 2

The ink is dry on pages torn,

From battles fought, through nights forlorn.

The shadows danced, the stars stood still,

Through every storm, we found our will.

Magic weaved through every thread,

Whispers of the words unsaid.

The highs, the lows, the in-between,

A tapestry of all we’ve seen.

I am the storyteller, holding the flame,

Through the dark and the dawn, I’ll call your name.

Every chapter leads us to the light,

Though the pages may fade, the spirit ignites.

The magic we lived, the trials we faced,

Will birth a new dawn, a story embraced.

We’ve walked on fire, we’ve danced on ice,

Rolled the dice and paid the price.

But even in the darkest night,

We found the spark, we made it right.

Dreams that broke, we turned to gold,

Wounds that healed, stories told.

Dreams that broke, we turned to gold,

Wounds that healed, stories told.

Through the tears, through the strife,

We penned the poem of this life.

We penned the poem of this life