Illyranor, Tree of Dawn

Beneath the sky where silence sang,

A silver seed through starlight sprang.

It struck the earth with breath of flame,

And from that fire, the First Tree came.

 

Its roots ran deep through time and stone,

Its crown of light stood skyward-grown.

Around its grace, white towers rose,

A city born from dawn’s repose.

 

They crowned the tree with woven light,

And watched it bloom through endless night.

Each fruit that fell was gently caught,

To rest in hands with wonder fraught.

 

But pride grew tall where roots ran deep,

And dreams once pure began to sleep.

They took the fruit, forgot the song,

And wondered why the light felt wrong.

 

 

Done