TenPastTen

In the hush of silvered light,

The band unfolds its ancient script—

Curves of metal, etched with starlit dust,

circling a single flame held fast at center.

This ruby, heart of the earth’s own forge,

burns with the fire of first love,

unquenched through tempests and still dawns.

It has carried stories across a thousand lifetimes,

passed from trembling finger to finger,

each wearer adding a verse to its endless song:

promises whispered in shadowed gardens,

farewells spoken at the edge of oceans,

reunions beneath unfamiliar skies.

Through wars that scarred the world and peaces that mended it,

through births and endings and the slow turning of seasons,

the stone remembers.

It glows not merely with light caught from above,

but with the steady heat of devotion

that outlives flesh and name and memory itself.

Now it rests here,

elegant and quiet,

yet alive with the murmur of every love it has known—

a quiet testament that some fires

are meant never to go out.