Échos des Sables Oubliés

II.
When youthful days like golden phantoms gleamed,
Among the rolling sands he once did play,
With laughter pure, as in an Eden dreamed,
A tender bond was forged in bright array.
His heart, enraptured by a kindred soul,
A maiden of the desert’s secret grace,
Did whisper dreams that made his spirit whole,
And lent in barren lands a sacred place.

III.
“O hark, thou quiet winds that cross these plains,
Adorn my memory with gentle art,”
The old man cried, though worn by countless pains,
Recall’d his love that haunted every heart.
For in that age, before the fall from light,
In innocence, a sacred vow was made;
A promise sworn beneath the starry night,
Though mortal bonds by time be slow decayed.

IV.
Under the cloak of twilight’s silver hue,
In secret groves of memory he roamed,
Where spectral voices rose as if they knew
A tragedy long whispered and intoned.
“My dearest love,” he spoke with trembling breath,
“Thou art the beacon by which life endured;
In every grain of sand, I find thy death,
Yet in each tear, thy gentle smile secured.”
Thus murmured he, to vestige of a kiss,
A tender echo of a timeless bliss.

V.
But Fate, that somber lord of dark design,
Unwound the golden thread of youthful dreams;
A dire and fated moment did align,
When sorrow’s toll arose in piercing screams.
For on a day when desert sun did burn,
A cruel decree was cast upon his heart—
To save the one for whom his soul did yearn,
He must depart, though ne’er again to part.

VI.
In secret, ‘neath the moon’s reflective glow,
He saw his cherished love enwrapped in woe,
Struck by a grievous curse none could outgrow,
A fate that bid her life’s end to bestow.
“O, destiny! O, accursed decree!
Why must a heart so fond endure such pain?”
He vowed an act to set her spirit free,
To sacrifice his breath, her soul regain.

VII.
Upon that fateful eve in endless sand,
Where winds recite the dirges of despair,
He sought the ancient rite, both grim and grand,
And lit a pyre with a solitary flair.
“My love, attend, though I be but a shade,
For here I bind my mortal coil to thine;
Thy life, my gift, in sacred hands conveyed,
Will rise anew as stars on heaven’s line.”
Thus cried he to the silent, watchful sky,
His voice entwined with wind and mournful sigh.

VIII.
For in that altar made of shifting grain,
A pact was formed, a covenant of flame;
The aged man, in sacrifice, ordained
A union of two souls beyond all shame.
“No mortal bond can part our kindred streams,
For through this act our essence shall be one;
Whilst time, relentless, shrouds our fragile dreams,
Our love, immortal, shall not be undone.”
So, with a heart emboldened by despair,
He pressed his hand upon the pyre’s glare.

IX.
Then through the dark, his mind did vivid stream
Of youthful summers by quaint, hidden springs;
The echo of a laugh, a cherished gleam,
And all the hopes that gentle memory brings.
He recalled a day, where by a brook so soft,
His beloved danced amidst the gentle light,
And in her eyes, a promise lifted oft,
That even death would fail to steal her bright.
Her voice, a lilt like ancient evening song,
Now sought communion in the desert’s throng.

X.
“O, sweetest love, whose visage haunts my days,
Attend my vow, for I shall be thine guide;
Beyond this mortal plane and all its ways,
Our souls shall dwell where endless dreams abide.”
In whispered tones the desert wind conspired,
Embracing every word he did impart,
As if the land, inflamed and so inspired,
Had taken up the rhythm of his heart.
Thus, hand in hand with time, he stepped toward fate,
Where loss and love in twain did co-create.

XI.
The ancient rite reached its profoundly close,
As flames devoured the fragile mortal frame;
Yet in his eyes, a fervid, pure repose,
Illuminated every whispered name.
The desert, mute as ever in its turn,
Became the stage for final, hallowed play;
And all around, the silent sands did churn,
In homage to the sorrow of the day.
A spectral light arose, and in its gleam,
The vanished maiden reappeared, it seemed.

XII.
Her voice, a solemn murmur in the night,
Addressed the wizened man in spectral form,
“Thy sacrifice renews our fated right,
To merge as one beyond the mortal storm.
Yet know, dear soul, that light by death is learned,
And innocence, though lost, can guide anew;
It is in thine own wounds that love is burned,
And in the flame, a truth emerges true.”
Her words, though soft, were charged with dire intent,
A promise of reward for deep lament.

XIII.
But sorrow struck as fate turned ever grim;
For in the echo of that spectral cry,
The sands proclaimed a future dark and dim,
Where hope was doused beneath an ashen sky.
For though his sacrifice might bridge the sphere,
It could not mend the rupture wrought by time;
For every promise sealed in ardent tear
Must yield to loss in life’s relentless chime.
Thus, as she spoke, the maiden’s form did fade,
And in his heart, despair was harshly laid.

XIV.
The vast expanse, now witness to his plight,
Bore silent witness to his final tread;
No union, though so fervently in sight,
Could halt the course where destiny must lead.
“O fated winds,” he cried, his voice now weak,
“Carry my soul to lands of sweet repose;
Let not my act be buried fast and bleak,
But bloom once more where memory’s flower grows.”
As if in answer, dunes began to sigh,
Reciting ballads of the long ago.

XV.
In that eternal desert, stark and vast,
The old man limped, his spirit near forsworn;
Yet every step recalled the distant past,
When youthful dreams like dewdrops did adorn.
Within his breast, the still-beating heart
Of love once shared, though marred by tragic flame,
Gave him a strength to bear his mournful part,
Yet knew its beat would ne’er the past reclaim.
“My dearest love,” he murmured to the sand,
“Thou art the beacon I can ne’er command.”

XVI.
A dialogue of phantom winds ensued,
Where echoes of her laughter danced with night;
The dunes, embossed by memory’s magnitude,
Revealed the secret of a final rite.
“Be not dismayed,” the spectral voice proclaimed,
“For every ending births a mournful seed;
Our souls are thus by passion undismayed,
Ever entwined in sorrow’s fertile creed.”
Yet even in these words of spectral art,
The lingering hearts could not escape their part.

XVII.
At last, upon a crest where dunes unite,
A final stage was set for solemn fare;
The heavens wept with dew in mournful light,
As old man knelt midst dust and desolate air.
His final sacrifice, an act complete,
Bound his fate with love through death’s embracing door;
He pressed a kiss upon the desert’s heat,
And bade farewell to all he’d loved before.
“Let this be testament, forever scribed,
That love, though mourned, transcends the finite tide.”

XVIII.
Thus, in the twilight of a life so spent,
A hallowed flame arose from sorrow’s pyre;
Yet in that blaze, no blissful recompense lent,
But only grief and fate’s unyielding fire.
The old man’s soul, now merged with storm and sand,
Dispersed into the endless, silent night,
Leaving behind the traces of a hand
That held a promise ‘gainst the fading light.
The desert, mere and mute in its embrace,
Consumed his form with keening, cold grace.

XIX.
In echoes deep, the memory still survives,
A tale of sacrifice wrought with despair;
Wherein a heart, in tender truth, derives
Its meaning from the love it dares to wear.
The grim expanse, a canvas vast and bare,
Now cradles whispers of that ancient plea,
And though his mortal frame lies lost somewhere,
His spirit roams with every sighing tree.
“O mournful sands,” the wind seems now to cry,
“Remember him, who loved and said goodbye.”

XX.
Now, pilgrims in the twilight years descend,
Drawn by the legend of that final act;
For in the tragic weave the fates intend,
There lies a lesson in the old man’s pact.
That though the world be riddled with despair,
And every joy is prone to gentle wane,
A sacrifice, profound beyond compare,
May leave a love that surmounts all the pain.
Yet as we gaze upon the desert’s lore,
We find our hearts forever touched—once more.

XXI.
In time’s relentless march, the whispers fade,
Yet linger still in quiet, soulful strain;
The bittersweet refrains that fate has made,
And all the memories that cause us pain.
Here in that boundless sea of golden grief,
A lonely spirit, burdened yet sublime,
Gives voice to every sorrow’s unbelief,
And chants the anthem of a lost first time.
“Remember well the days of tender youth,
For in each tear lies seeds of timeless truth.”

XXII.
So let the desert speak with gentle tongue
Of sacrifices made in twilight’s gloom;
The ancient verses on the wind are sung,
Encircling souls within their binding tomb.
A lone man’s heart has etched its tale in sand,
Where childhood’s bliss and tragic fates entwine;
Through every gust, his love—both sweet and grand—
Endures as whisper in the dunes divine.
Thus, one may find in sorrow most refined,
The fragile beauty destiny defines.

XXIII.
Now, as the final embers dim and die,
The spectral maiden fades into the night;
Her echo joins the endless, wistful cry
That haunts the desert under starlit light.
The old man’s sacrifice, though wrought in pain,
Remains a beacon to those who dare believe;
For even in the throes of bitter rain,
The memory of pure love shall not deceive.
And as his tale dissolves into the sands,
We learn that every love, though doomed, still stands.

XXIV.
In conclusion, from this testament we glean
That life is wrought with beauty and with tears;
As fleeting as the mirage seldom seen,
Yet etched forever in the chronicle of years.
Let every sorrow borne on winds so wild
Be cherished as a relic of the past;
For in the heart of every grieving child,
The echo of true love shall ever last.
Though final fate demands a tragic cost,
In every loss, the seeds of hope are tossed.

XXV.
Thus, when you wander lonely ‘neath the sky,
And find your heart in quiet despondency,
Recall the tale of one who chose to die,
To bind his soul to love’s infinity.
In every grain of sand, a memory lies,
Each shifting ripple sings a mournful song;
Remember well with tearful, wondering eyes—
True love endures though fate might prove most wrong.
For in the endless desert, vast and deep,
The old man’s sacrifice forever sleeps.