Resurgam.
I will rise again,
I will rise again,
From those beautiful ashes,
Resurgam.
A fire burns, it burns me,
It burns with me, raging,
I feel a sense of peace instead,
Peace at realization of my death.
My soul still burns, yet not my heart,
Resurgam.
A tombstone covered in moss,
That is where I lay still,
My spirit still roams freely,
My soul burns with that fire.
Unquenchable, passionate,
Painful, calming.
A beautiful face, with a loud silence,
Thoughts dashing around,
Rapidly, yet all turns quiet as,
A tear rolls out of that pale face,
Resurgam.
She will rise again, yes,
She will rise again,
Her calm soul never departed,
Why then, would you hear this word?
Resurgam.
Does it not sound hopeless?
Helen burns, Helen’s soul burns,
Helen’s likeness, a soft and pale jasmine,
Jane’s likeness, a fiery and powerful chrysanthemum.
Resurgam,
Look over yonder, friend,
There lays a tombstone, on it carved.
The solitarily powerful term,
Resurgam.
Well done Mahima, I see that you have read Jane Eyre