There are reasons you are drawn to ruins to smoke
to the dark hush of places no one calls holy anymore
It's nostalgia
It's blood memory
Your soul remembers the scent of cedar and flames
the echo of your voice through the stone halls
You were a priestess
You were an oracle
You spoke the language of the veil
And now
you are waking in a world that forgot itself
carrying a torch you thought had gone out
But it never did
It was waiting
For you
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