The Master and Margarita - What you burn returns

You said there is no power but your own, no scale, no judge, no shadow on the throne. I have stood in gardens you have never seen. I have watched the brave man wash his hands clean. Truth is only this: your head aches, and the hour grows late. You sign the name, you turn away, and call your silence fate. What you burn returns, returns. The fire learns what the hand could not erase. Hold the flame against the page— it will not take, it will not fade. What you burn returns. So certain in your towers, so refined, I gave you the night, I gave you the blind. A crowd, a séance, a debt you couldn't pay— the whole sleepwalking city peeled away. Truth is only this: the brave still kneel, the cruel still reign. But one who wrote against the dark will not be wiped away. What you burn returns, returns. The fire learns what the hand could not erase. Hold the flame against the page— it will not take, it will not fade. What you burn returns. She walked through the flame and asked for nothing— nothing for herself, only him. She walked through the flame and asked for nothing— so what the fire took was given back again. Not the light. Not the light. Something rarer than the light: a quiet house, a candle still, the night that finally stands still. Not the light… REST. What you burn returns, returns. The fire learns what the hand could not erase. Hold the flame against the page— it will not take, it will not fade. What you burn returns. It returns. It always returns. Everything will be made right… and the ink outlives us all.