Why do they burn with fire inside? Vain thoughts return and twist the tide. The kings conspire, their voices low, But truth, it fades—refuses show. They break the chains and curse the sky, No fear of grace, no reason why. He laughs above, untouched by frame, Not held by love, not bound by name. He speaks in flame, in vapor tone, A name unknown, unknown alone. "My king shall rise on Zion’s face, A place I’ve marked, set time and space." "My Son," He says, "I set your reign. Ask, I'll give—worlds in your domain." Lands will shake and rise and bow, All nations bend, behold it now." Iron breaks, clay jars crawl, No mercy falls, just crashing thrall. Strike like a rod, raw, unmade, No god designed this blade. Be wise now, kings who dare to speak, Fear deeper things, feel knees go weak. Serve with tremble, with a quake, Truth will crack when you awake. Kiss the Son before He’s gone, Blest are the few who hold on. Trust what’s true, don’t let it slide, In signal loss we reside.
