[list][sub]the melody remains immaculate.

every note still occupies
its ordained place,
yet the reverence it once summoned
has long since dissolved.

you recite each lyric
like an incantation
to a god who no longer answers.

this is [b]desidolia[/b].

the melancholy of emotional estrangement;
the slow erosion of wonder
from the very things
that once rendered the ordinary
almost sacred.

no cataclysm announces its arrival.

only the imperceptible sediment
of passing seasons,
until beloved places become unfamiliar,
cherished rituals become ceremonial,
and nostalgia survives
only as an echo
without its original voice.

perhaps delight has not perished.

perhaps it has merely withdrawn
beyond the horizon of recognition,
waiting for a future version of you
to encounter it anew.[/sub][/list]