Vows whispered beneath ash, sworn not to gods but to the ache that remembers.
I vow to rise, even without witness. To love when it is not returned. To speak truth when silence is safer. To reach through smoke and remember myself. I vow to be the warmth I once waited for.
I vow to remain open, even when the world insists I close. To carry beauty like a wound and a weapon. To offer my longing without shame. To call back the forgotten parts of me, and hold them with devotion.
I vow not to become ash without fire. Not to forget that ache is a compass. Not to mistake numbness for peace. I vow to burn deliberately, to love with both hands, and to name myself sacred.