A flame-winged horse dances through the dusk, ascending in a blaze of resurrection and memory. Its hair, woven from strands of scarlet, gold, and celestial light, blaze against a lavender sky. This is the horse of rebirth—its song an elegy for endings and a hymn for beginnings. Each wingbeat stirs the heavens, raining cinders that blossom into stars. Its silhouette paints a tale of triumph across the clouds, a reminder that from every ash, a miracle rises. To witness its flight is to feel time dissolve into poetry.
