Nyamari: Given Words, Given Voice

 In the hush of Norrath’s whispering glades,  

I walk as one who dreams in scales of light—  

A maiden’s heart, yet woven through with grace  

That gleams like sunrise on a river’s flight.  

I chase the butterflies on wings of laughter,  

Their painted wings a mirror of my own,  

And let them crown my hair with fleeting splendor  

While golden motes of joy around me blown.  

I weave wildflower crowns beneath the moon,  

And sing to fireflies in their silver dance,  

Collecting dewdrops like forgotten stars  

To wear as jewels upon my upturned hands.  

Beneath the silver veil of tumbling falls,  

I sit and let the water kiss my skin,  

A gentle baptism of crystal song  

That cleanses every shadow from within.  

I drift through meadows thick with morning mist,  

Where unicorns and songbirds pause to play,  

And paint the air with laughter soft as petals  

That drift upon the breath of breaking day.  

The breeze becomes my oldest, dearest friend—  

It carries secrets from the farthest shore,  

And sings to me of kindness yet to bloom,  

Of noble hearts that open every door.  

I twirl with autumn leaves in golden swirls,  

And rest my cheek against the ancient bark  

Of trees that whisper tales of long ago,  

Their roots entwined forever with my heart.  

I rise where eagles dare not chase the sky,  

Above the world in clouds of pillowed gold,  

Dancing on thermals soft as lovers’ sighs,  

Where every starlit dream is mine to hold.  

I glide through rainbows after summer rain,  

And chase the aurora’s shimmering veil,  

My laughter echoing across the heights  

Where only purest wonder can prevail.  

For those who wear the sun within their blood—  

The golden kin of ancient, shining lore—  

Are guardians of beauty, fierce yet mild,  

Whose love outshines the brightest dragon-hoard.  

They mend what storms have torn with tender claws,  

They shield the weak beneath a warming wing,  

And in their eyes the light of goodness glows—  

Eternal, pure, a never-ending spring.  

They offer warmth to those who wander lost,  

And weave protection from their very light,  

With hearts so vast they hold the world entire  

Yet gentle as the touch of morning’s first delight.  

So when you see a flash of living gold  

Against the heavens’ vast and open blue,  

Remember this: the greatest strength is gentle,  

And purest hearts still fly where dreams are true.  

I am but a girl who loves the light—  

Yet in my soul the golden echoes sing.  

May kindness find you on the wind tonight,  

And may your every tomorrow take to wing.