A life of mortals, too fragile to break, One dark curse makes all courage shake. Trust dies quickly when gods command, A voiceless soul in a fallen land. A beautiful soul, yet mortal — Echo her name, A woodland nymph with a rose-lit frame. Birds sang for her, and she sang for them, They danced in her light, a quiet hymn. A king of gods, yet a slave to desire, He wore false wings and borrowed fire. Hera waited through day and night, Till she walked the earth in jealous might. The mighty god trembled in dread, He turned to Echo where fear was fed. She bowed her head — no freedom, no choice, To deny was death, to obey was no voice. She did what fate chained her to do, Led the queen astray through shadowed blue. But fortune turned — her secret exposed, And royal wrath like wildfire rose. A voice that once made forests sway, Was buried beneath the dirt and grey. Hera’s curse sealed her doomed decree, A soul condemned to silence be. Had she worn crowns of higher flame, Would fate have dared to mar her name? She longs to sing, yet silence stays, A myth of grief in endless days. She weeps still, cursed for loyalty’s cost, She saved a king who left her lost. A king in name, yet saved her none, While she became what gods had done. The queen forgave, returned to her throne, And left her spirit to weep alone.