A solitary woman is a lantern—
her light a quiet blaze,
unshaken by whispers or shadows.
She enters realms unseen,
her path uncharted, untouched
She keeps hidden groves
where the world has not dared to linger
She walks alone,
under stars that flicker secrets
and winds that hum forgotten songs
Her steps trace an ancient rhythm,
carved by the soles of a million women
who never turned back,
each footprint a pulse, a prayer, a promise
In the silence, her soul rises,
a river bending through mountains of memory,
through valleys of lost histories
She is the seeker of origins,
the discoverer of invisible fires,
a maker of myths woven in whispers and scars
Each night, her solitude blooms
like an unseen garden, wild and holy,
roots plunging into earth’s forgotten bones,
flowers reaching into midnight’s breath
She is the song that no one sang,
the dream that dared itself awake
For she knows that to walk alone
is to carry the world within—
to step where none have gone,
to name the nameless places,
to dance on edges and cradle mysteries
that only the brave and broken can hold
And so she walks,
leaving trails of stardust and questions,
her footprints fading softly into dawn—
a silent, powerful hymn
to the woman who dares the unknown–
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