THE WEIGHT OF DESTINY
I walk beneath a sky of molten gold,
With silent storms within my guarded chest;
A tale of fire and prophecy untold
Beats like a drum that will not let me rest.
The road is carved in stone beneath my feet,
Yet thorns and roses bloom along its line;
Each triumph tastes of iron, sharp and sweet,
Each fall resounds with echoes half-divine.
I bear the dreams my fathers could not frame,
Their whispered hopes stitched tightly to my skin;
Their victories and failures speak my name,
And urge my trembling, mortal heart within.
For destiny is not a crown of light,
Nor gentle wind that lifts a soul with ease;
It is a forge that burns throughout the night,
A restless tide that bends the stiffest seas.
It presses hard upon the fragile bone,
It brands the spirit with relentless flame;
It builds a throne from suffering alone,
And crowns the brave who rise above their shame.
Yet in its weight, a hidden mercy lies,
A strength distilled from sorrow’s bitter art;
For those who dare to look through weeping eyes
Will find a lion sleeping in the heart.
So let it come—the burden and the blaze,
The darkened valley and the distant star;
I walk my path through shadowed, ancient ways,
Becoming all the things I truly are.
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