Imagine for a moment, a heartbeat, a breath,
That underneath the surface of your skin
There flows a molten river, a current, of death
That threatens to reveal what lies within.
That hidden in the darkness, the quiet, of night,
A fiery furnace bubbles up with rage.
No matter what you whisper to soften its might,
It roars aloud and rails against its cage.
And all that you can do to ride the fury of the storm
Is harness all the anger in your heart;
That the whims of purest passion, unbridled, deformed,
Chomp at the bit and tear your world apart.

But then pretend you have the will to saddle every fear
And grin the reins with hands as soft as stone;
To stoke the fire and not succumb, to steer
A course designed by you, alone.
And waking from your vigil, determined, prepared,
You spread your wings and seek the stars above.
Glowing like an ember, a beacon, a flare:
Incendiary passion tamed by love.

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Lupar, in the year 923 AF.