HiveComb

​Though destiny’s veil eludes concealment’s art,
My journey’s shadowed path shall never from lips depart.

I stand as stone amidst the rising tide,
With hollowed depths where quiet griefs abide.

The world demands a face both bright and clear,
While silence tolls a bell no one else can hear;

A ghost in light, I serve the day's decree,
Held fast by eyes that look, but do not see.

Each hour a debt the weary spirit pays,
To mask the ache of solitary days;

A bridge for others, built of secret shards,
I hold the gates, and am my only guards.

The weight is not in mountains I must climb,
But in the slow, relentless drip of time—

To be the hearth where others find their heat,
While walking cold on paths of ice and sleet.

So let the world its easy tribute bring,
To one who stands, yet feels no quickening spring;