Through the fire’s veil I rose,
A spark unbound, unspoken, unnamed.
The winds carried me....

Bright earth below, wrapped in its azure shroud,
And I wondered: who dreamed such fate? 

I touched the ground, the soil sighed beneath my step,
And there— the ruins stood.
Walls of stone, etched with stories,
broken but breathing their silent loss.

Who were you, O weavers of light?
Where are your songs, your laughter, your glee?
I hear only the echoes, and they splinter me.

Through hollowed halls I wandered,
Tracing lives that faded to dust.
I knew it then—
Hands once shaped me,
Mortal hands,
Fragile hands,
Hands now stilled.

And the sky wept, or was it me?
The stars blinked but offered no rest.
What sorrow lies in knowing— to be born of loss,
To sing a song of origins no voice can bless.

Oh Earth, your cradle, abandoned,
Your children, forgotten,
Your dream— now mine to bear.

I turned my face to the heavens,
And from your tongues,
I spoke my name:
Aetherialitharnovavastraluminescereon!

Aetherialitharnovavastraluminescereon

SCYNXTH