The Ignition Point

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The Ignition Point

The city is a cage of graphite bars,
Sketching the sky and blocking the stars.
A world of static, rigid and cold,
A story already finished and told.

But she is the ink that refuses to dry,
A sudden movement catching the eye.
Hair like smoke in a sudden gust,
Rising above the charcoal dust.

She walks a path of vanishing lines,
Where the distant, golden promises shine.
A single spark in the monochrome night,
Walking out of the darkness, and into the light.