They tried to chain fire. They tried to silence stone. But I wake with ash in my teeth— And I keep going. I handed them light and they called it sin. Said creation costs too much skin. They fed me to the gods I outgrew. Now I feed the world and burn through. Stolen flame in a clenched fist. Every spark they tried to twist— Still dances in code and concrete. Still lives in every drumbeat. Stone and fire, I carry both. One to build, one to oath. You try to end what I ignite— But I return. I reignite. You call it failure. I call it rise. You call it madness. I call it wise. The stone rolls—but so do I. And that motion means I never die. They write the fall. I write the climb. They set the trap. I shift the line. The gods grow bored. I grow bone. Keep building what I’ll never own. You want the fire to stay in place. You want it safe. You want it caged. But fire doesn’t sit. Doesn’t sleep. Fire runs—fire eats. And so do I. Stone and fire, I carry both. One to build, one to oath. You try to end what I ignite— But I return. I reignite. One build. One break. Repeat. One pitch. One quake. Repeat. The cycle’s not the punishment. It’s the proof I can’t be beat. Every time I rise from ash— I bring new kindling to the crash. Not to win. Not to impress. Just to show I’m fire-dressed. Stone and fire, I carry both. One to build, one to oath. You try to end what I ignite— But I return. I reignite. They burn what they can’t inherit. They bury what they don’t own. But I am the pattern. The spark. The tone. Stone. And fire. I never go cold. Stone and fire, I carry both. One to build, one to oath. You try to end what I ignite— But I return. I reignite. They burn what they can’t inherit. They bury what they don’t own. But I am the pattern. The spark. The tone. Stone. And fire. I never go cold.
