From ash-born plains where scorchwinds cry,
To coral cliffs where gulls wheel high,
He walked with fire beneath his skin,
She sang the sea that pulled him in.
Spear in hand and salt on breath,
They met where endings kiss their deaths,
Where cinder glows by tidal stone,
Two restless hearts no longer lone.
Fire asked the sea to stay,
The sea asked fire not to fade.
Where flame meets tide, our vows were sworn,
In hiss of steam at coming morn,
No crown, no kin, no law above—
Just wave and spark and daring love.
Where flame meets tide, remember me,
When storms ignite the open sea,
If fire falls and waves must roam—
Our meeting place will still be home.
They spoke in songs, in silences,
In moss and foam and embered grass,
He learned the calm inside her eyes,
She learned the hunger of his skies.
But whispers grew like jealous flame,
And tidefolk spoke his coming shame,
So fire ran to prove its worth,
And never crossed the waiting earth.
Three moons she sang, the shoreline knew,
Each note a promise breaking through,
The sea returned a splintered truth—
A spear, salt-scored, bereft of youth.
Where flame meets tide, she still will stand,
With shattered spear in open hand,
When thunder walks and waters rise,
You’ll see her searching storm-lit skies.
Where flame meets tide, if storms ignite,
And sea burns bright with borrowed light,
Know love once stood where none should be—
The flame who loved… the mourning sea.
So sing it low by lantern’s gleam,
Of fire lost and endless dream,
For when the waves glow warm and wide—
Azhraan walks still… where flame meets tide.
