In halls of flame where no wind sighs,
There rose a blaze to scorch the skies.
With heart of cinder, breath of storm,
He danced alone in fire-born form.
No bound could hold, no plea could stay,
The wrath he loosed from day to day.
But fire that feeds on all it sees,
Shall one day kneel to ash and breeze.
Oh, burn not bright without the rest,
Lest flame consume the world’s own chest.
He seared the seas to boiling foam,
He cracked the stone of mountain’s home.
The sky he challenged, wild with pride,
And left a thousand kingdoms dried.
The elements, in battle drawn,
All turned their gaze to break the dawn.
For fire that feeds on all it sees,
Shall one day kneel to ash and breeze.
Oh, burn not bright without the rest,
Lest flame consume the world’s own chest.
And so he fell, the blaze turned blind,
Consumed by hungers unrefined.
The lords of storm and stone and tide
Cast him low with wrath denied.
But just before his spark was lost,
A hand of balance paid the cost.
She wrapped him not in chains or stone,
Nor cast his soul to drift alone.
But took the flame and made it seed,
To learn of root and wind and need.
To walk as flesh, to feel the rain,
To suffer loss, to earn his name.
Oh fire, once feared, now tempered bright,
May you yet be the hearth’s own light.
No pyre now, but ember warm—
A heart remade, a different form.
Burn soft, burn true, and learn to be
A part of life’s great harmony.