“Come with me,” they said,

Through the fire and the ash,

Under shadow and point,

The four-sided stone,

Wreathed in secrets,

And mysteries old.

“But I know better,” I said.

Knowledge is cheap,

It cares not of your status,

Of family,

Of fame.

And I can find my own way,

Beyond the veil hiding right.

“You are mistaken,” they said,

Despite your confidence,

For there is more to understanding,

Than the wyverns,

And the Path,

To be broken down,

And rebuilt as new.

“I will follow,” I said,

Led through the streets,

Into the heart,

And the mind,

Of the ones with true sight,

To reveal what was lost,

Or forgotten with time.

“Take the sands,” they said,

Run fingers through,

For the shifting and sifting,

Makes the one,

From the many,

Makes the strong,

From the few.

“But it slips,” I said,

Between fingers and hands,

To the cobbled streets,

To the gila’s lands,

Where memories fade,

And footprints don’t last.

“Turn it to stone,” they said,

The grains to the glass,

The brightness of flame,

To darkness of night,

Hardened and tempered,

Patience reformed.

“Now I can see,” I said,

It’s cooled now, and cold,

Reflecting a visage,

One of a stranger,

One with eyes opened,

And a light,

Twinkling so.

“Glass to the Flame,” they said,

By now I took heed,

For a City that stands,

With the might of its own,

Eschews all that pride,

In trade for reprieve,

That all can provide.

“Freedom take flight,” I said,

Be birthed anew,

Flutter with purpose,

Though fragile and thin,

Whose faint tiny patter,

Can alter the Threads.

“Burn onwards”, we said,

With the fuel of our minds.

With the air from our breaths.

With the fire from our truths.

Forever and more.