We stole the fire from older skies,
Named it progress, named it fate,
Built our cities out of promise
On foundations laid in hate.
Every law was carved in thunder,
Every throne in molten gold,
We called conquest “destiny”
And crowned the ruthless, crowned the bold.
Stone remembers every footstep,
Ash recalls the hands that ruled,
Time does not forgive the mighty—
Only those who learned restraint.
Power without wisdom burns slow,
Not in storms, not in screams,
It fades the world by quiet inches,
Kills tomorrow’s brightest dreams.
When strength decides and sight grows blind,
The end draws close, the end draws near—
A slow apocalypse of kings
Who never learned to fear.
We bent the Veil to serve our hunger,
Chained the stars to mortal will,
Turned the past into a weapon,
Called destruction “greater good.”
The clever served the cruelest minds,
The wise were silenced, cast aside,
And truth became a fragile thing
That learned to hide or learned to die.
Hold the flame and learn its weight,
Or let it write our final age,
For fire obeys no foolish king
And mercy’s stronger than a blade.
Choose the hand that heals the wound,
Not the fist that claims the right,
For empires fall not in one night—
They die when wisdom leaves the fight.
Power without wisdom burns slow,
Takes its time, but never spares,
It turns the world to whispered myths
And prayers lost in broken air.
If we would save what still remains,
We must see before we rule,
Or wear the ashes of the crown
As proof we never learned the rule.
Ash falls gentle, ash falls long,
Over every shattered throne—
The end is not the fire we fear,
But the wisdom never shown.
