The Orphan’s Starfarewell

Through archways choked with ivy’s emerald chains,
He wandered, clutching hope’s last frail remains:
A locket cold, its clasped embrace undone,
Held naught but dust and memory’s phantom sun.
“O Mother,” mourned his heart in silent cries,
“Where gleams the truth behind thy shrouded eyes?”

The temple breathed—its pillars, giants old,
Their brows engraved with tales of gods turned cold.
A star pierced through the dome’s cracked, splintered face,
One argent eye adrift in endless space.
It fell as though the sky had shed a tear,
To kiss his cheek—a beacon drawing near.

“Child of the Veil,” a voice like wind through reeds,
Arose from where the star its radiance breeds.
There stood a shade, her form by moonlight spun,
A silver wraith, half-dawn and half undone.
“Three trials await where shadows guard the gate:
The Mirror’s Lie, the Hourglass of Fate,

The Chains of Echoes bound to mortal pain.
Shouldst thou endure, thy roots thou shalt regain.”
Her hand, a mist, toward western halls did yearn,
Where frescoes dim with ancient anguish burned.
Yet in his breast, resolve like iron grew—
What blade could sever bonds his spirit knew?

**First Trial: The Mirror’s Lie**
In chambers drowned in silence thick as tar,
A glass loomed tall, a cold, unblinking star.
Therein he saw a face—not his, but hers,
Eyes drowned in storms, a voice that none could hear.
“Thou art the seed of exile, born to roam,
No hearth shall hold thee, neither earth nor foam.”

The glass dissolved to ash beneath his tread,
“Thy lies,” he vowed, “shall choke on truths unsaid.”

**Second Trial: The Hourglass of Fate**
Through crypts where sand like liquid ember flowed,
Each grain a life, each life a whispered ode.
His mother’s face swirled deep within the storm,
Her laughter etched in ash, her touch still warm.
“Reverse the flow,” the phantom bade him plead,
“Deny the grave, let love undo the deed.”

Yet as he grasped the glass, her voice rang clear—
“Let Time’s swift river carve its course, my dear.”
The sands stilled, spent; the boy let fall a cry,
For mercy dwells where mortal hearts deny.

**Third Trial: The Chains of Echoes**
A labyrinth of voices, darkly twined,
Each step awoke the ghosts he left behind.
“Abandoned wretch,” they hissed in venom’s tune,
“Thy blood is naught but night’s forsaken moon.”
He clutched the locket, frost against his palm,
And whispered words no tempest could disarm:

“Though exiles walk where thorns eclipse the sun,
The stars still sing for those who journey done.”
The chains fell shattered, shards of shattered sound,
As light, long veiled, burst forth from vaults unbound.

**Epiphany: The Star’s Confession**
The wraith returned, her guise now frail as dew,
“Behold, lone scion, what thy heart foreknew.”
The locket glowed—a key of spectral fire—
And turned within the air, a pyre’s spire.
The temple quaked; the star’s fierce blaze unfurled,
To sear the truth upon the weeping world:

“Thy mother’s breath was this same star’s last sigh,
Her soul entwined with spheres that scar the sky.
To save thee from the dark that sought thy doom,
She bade thee dwell within this mortal womb.
Yet flesh and star may never long embrace—
Thy fate is wrought in cosmic exile’s grace.”

**The Farewell**
The boy looked up, his tears like comet trails,
As through his hands, his form grew pale, then frail.
The locket clinked, a relic on the stone,
While he, a wisp of light, was no more bone.
The star reclaimed him—son of borrowed clay—
To wander heavens, endless and astray.

The wraith dissolved, her purpose now complete,
The temple sighed, its stones kissed with defeat.
Dawn came, a thief to steal the night’s lament,
And where he stood, a single rose was bent—
Its petals white, as pure as vows undone,
A mother’s love outshone by distant sun.

**Elegy**
Now villagers, when stars in silence weep,
Recall the child the earth could never keep.
They point to where one star burns bittersweet,
And whisper, “There—the heart that none could meet.”
Yet none discern, within that mournful blaze,
An orphan’s endless, wordless starfarewell phrase.