Requiem of Dreams

Cloaked in furs against the chill,
a maiden starts her pilgrimage.
Shielding candle from wild winds,
vulnerable flame sputters,
flickering yet resolute -
defiance burning in frozen darkness.

She stops before a balsam fir,
branches laden with wax effigies:
glowing dreams, torrid passion
each gleaming among fragrant needles,
illuminating the silent timber
with a hopeful tapestry of light.

Placing her offering among them,
stepping back to witness the sheen.
Pilgrim exhales with reverence,
basking in luminescence,
admiring brilliant luster,
from every walk of life.

Colors morph from yellow to green,
flames crackle, sparks snap,
greedily, the embers grow -
blistering supporting twigs,
ivory pillars begin to crumble
melting in sudden searing heat.

Tearful maiden can only witness,
unable to stop the conflagration,
all consuming in its fervor.
Listening to soft shrieks
as the tree keens and withers,
helpless against igneous assault.

Now the shrine has vanished,
replaced by charred bark and soot.
Pale ashes tumble silently,
ghosts drifting on icy breeze,
wafting over a grieving woman,
fading into gathering shadow.