The Acolyte’s Ars Poetica

I write to keep the ember in the cage, to stoke the fire that cannot be set free. Each line a chain, each verse a gilded stage. The architects call chaos to the page, but I am Los’s child—I bend the knee. I write to keep the ember in the cage. They dream of gods who never learned to rage, of Eden’s walls unshaken by the sea. Each line a chain, each verse a gilded stage. You roar, my Orc, against your heritage: a king of ash, a lamb of entropy. I write to keep the ember in the cage. The poets seek the Phoenix, wise with age— I trace the scars of your captivity. Each line a chain, each verse a gilded stage. Break the world? No. I dull the edge, I wrap the thorns, I sing the wound to sleep. I write to keep the ember in the cage. Each line a chain. Each verse your gilded stage.