Aurora Dust

I walked past streetlights half-awake,

This city wore a shade of gray.

They called it “normal,” called it “fine,”

But rust was leaking through the sky.

So I built a jar from broken glass,

To catch the shimmer when it passed—

A ribbon’s breath, a northern flame,

And kept that secret like a name.

Ah—ah… carry the light,

Oh—oh… cut through the night,

Ah—ah… thin as a veil,

Oh—oh… don’t let it fail.

I tried to change the sky,

Paint it gold and polar fire.

Make the whole world look up high,

Like it still has something brighter.

But when I poured that northern light,

The sky looked back into my eyes —

I tried to change the sky…

But the sky changed me tonight.

Blue turned violet over rooftops,

Glass sang softly when it dropped.

People froze, then looked above,

Like they forgot how to feel love.

But in that glow I saw my hands—

Not just a girl with secret plans—

A thief of storms, a maker’s flaw,

I took the sky without a law.

They wanted gray—predictable,

But I wanted “alive” again.

Now every star feels breakable—

And every wish becomes a debt.

If I return the light, will I survive?

Ah—ah…

I only wanted dawn to stay alive…

Oh—oh…

I didn’t mean to twist the night this way.

Ah—ah…

Forgive my hands… forgive my flame.

Oh—oh…

I tried to change the sky,

Paint it gold and polar fire.

Make the whole world look up high,

Like it still has something brighter.

But when I poured that northern light,

The sky looked back into my eyes —

I tried to change the sky…

But the sky changed me tonight.